Harry Potter and the Unknown Title
by Cleo Sombra
Summary: This is MY version of the sixth book because I didn't like JKR's version. Slash IS included. Keep reading and review!
1. Chapter 1

This story is basically the sixth book. I once wrote the sixth book (if you check my profile) but that died. I haven't written in awhile. In my opinion, JKR's sixth book sucked. So it's my turn to write.

Note: This DOES include homosexuality. Deal with it.

Read and review. )

Chapter One: The Kiss.

It was only the first few weeks into summer 'vacation,' and already Harry hated it. The Dursleys were getting accustomed to not bothering him, which Harry could tell, was getting to them. Vernon would open his mouth to say something nasty, look directly at his hated nephew, then look away, remembering a very unpleasant face.

That unpleasant face was not all that bad, at least, not in Harry's opinion. Mad Eye Moony was a bit mad, but his heart was in the right place. Probably what frightened his uncle the most was the torn up appearance of the man and the fact that he was a wizard.

Yes, Harry was also a wizard, much to his relatives' disapproval, not that he could say that he honestly cared. The Dursleys were crude and unpleasant to begin with, but add in a hated nephew and they were only worse. They hated Harry mostly because of his wizard origin, but if anyone asked, they would come up with other reasons, true or not. No one in the muggle world knew of his powers except the Dursleys, who kept it a dark secret.

Luckily, Harry (Potter that is, his mother was a muggle born and his father was a pureblood) stayed at 4 Privet Drive for only a period of two months during vacation, usually less, when the Weasleys invited him over.

Ron Weasley was Harry's best friend. They met on the very first day of their very through year and did everything together. Mrs. Weasley began to treat Harry like another son and Hermione Granger, Harry's other best friend, as another daughter. Harry looked up to Mrs. Weasley like a second mother, since he really didn't have a first.

Well, that wasn't true. His parents died when he was only a year old, murdered, actually. They were killed by Voldemort, the most villainous wizard of all time. Voldemort and the death eaters, his followers, had killed many people in his time, but only one did Harry know very well. Sirius Black, his godfather, was murdered only the year before by a death eater and his cousin: Bellatrix Lestrange. Still distraught, Harry continually had nightmares over the event. He had seen a boy die the previous year before that. Who was going to die this year?

Pushing the sad feelings away, Harry attempted to focus on all the good times they had together, as Hermione instructed in a letter previously. Hermione was a very smart girl, top of their year. And with her intelligence came maturity, and more often then not she was acting like Harry's and Ron's mother. She meant well, although it could get annoying when she came up to them, telling them to do their homework.

He loved his friends, dearly. As the years got on, he became closer to some of the other ones. Ginny, Ron's only sister, used to have a crush on him. But after giving up on him, she moved her romances on, but strengthened their friendship. She helped the trio in their time of need the previous year when Harry was desperate to save his godfather. Somehow, Neville Longbottom, a nervous and clumsy Gryffindor, and Luna Lovegood, a dazed, innocent Ravenclaw got involved in the mess as well. They were not close or anything, but it was nice to have someone else to talk to or ask for help.

And then there was-OW.

Of all the stupidest things Harry ever did, this had to top them all. He stepped onto hoe that lay on the ground and the long handle went sailing up into his face. His glasses flew off, but luckily didn't break, although they got a little dirty from the ground. The damage was minimal, although there was a throbbing pain above the bridge of his nose. Plus, there was an annoying screeching in his ear. Oh wait, that was Petunia Dursley, his aunt.

"Put the hoe away and get in here, boy. Your uncle wants to speak with you. And wipe your feet on the mat!" Harry blinked with a moment of daze. "Well? Hurry up!" Petunia snapped, before disappearing from the doorway.

Petunia was his mother's sister. His mother was a witch in a muggle family, and Petunia herself had no magical powers, as far as anyone knew. She did, however, know Albus Dumbledore, his headmaster, but there seemed to be no connecting relationship between the two. The woman had a long neck, a pointy nose, and sharp eyes. When Harry was younger, he thought she was part bird and wondered why she didn't fly. But that was when he was younger.

Picking up his glasses and the hoe, Harry opened the tool shed not far off. It was built over the year when Harry wasn't there, and only after a few months it was filled. However, the tool shed had very few tools and was used almost as a closet for Dudley. There was the bicycle that Dudley never rode, the books that Dudley never read, and the telly he never watched. Dudley Dursley was the Dursleys' son, a fat, spoiled brat. His parents thought he was an angel but never saw the gang that followed Dudley around and made excuses for his poor grades.

Harry locked the door to the shed and headed back towards the house, rubbing his feet on the mat as he did, or else he would have gotten in trouble. Petunia and Dudley were no where to be seen, but he heard rumbling in the living room. Vernon was stomping around angrily.

Vernon was Harry's uncle, who looked like Dudley, except bigger, fatter, and he had a large mustache. He had little neck and his face was always red, with veins bulging whenever he got angry. Right now, it looked like he was going to have a stroke.

"What does THIS mean?" Vernon bellowed when he spotted Harry. In his hand he clutched a piece of parchment – a letter. He handed it to Harry and instructed that he read it.

_Harry -_

_Harry, this is MEM, I'm using codes in case this gets into the wrong hands. _

_Under your current location and circumstances, you probably do not have access to the wizard news. Ms. Hestia Jones and Ms. Emmeline Vance were found murdered this morning. Ms. Jones was in her bed at the time of death, killed in her sleep. Ms. Vance was working on a new type of portkey in her laboratory. We feel that you and the entirety of the you-know-what are in danger. _

_We, that is I, NT, RL, SS, and several others will be coming to take you to you-know-where at the time your school normally has dinner tonight. Do not pack your bags, but hold onto your wand at that something that your father gave you._

_MEM, OotP_

Well, needless to say, it was a little hard reading it and he stumbled over all the initials MEM probably meant Mad Eye Moody, seeing as he was very paranoid. But was this about the time? Harry glanced at the clock; it was two minutes until five, dinner time.

"Well, boy? What does it say? What does that mean, you-know-where?"

"It means," Harry grumbled, folding the letter, "That the Order is going to come and pick me up now."

"And what if I don't let you go with them?" Vernon smirked, attempting to have power over the situation.

"Then you will have to answer to me," Muttered a gravely voice. Harry looked up and Vernon turned around, who froze. There were seven witches and wizards there, all dressed in calm, dark colored robes. Well, except for Tonks who was wearing a canary yellow dress and had matching hair in a bun. Alastor Moody stepped up to Vernon's face, "I said we are taking the boy. Want to argue with me?"

Vernon made some sort of squeaking 'no' and stayed as still as a statue. "You three, go up and collect Harry's things. Bring down his wand and cloak separately." Two of the wizards from the Advance Guard looked familiar, although he couldn't place his name on them, and then there was one short, chipper witch.

"Okay, boss. But how are we s'possed to find an invisibility cloak if it's invisible? Doesn't that kinda defeat the purpose if it can be-"

"GO!"

The witch blinked and hurried off, following the others. Severus Snape, Harry's least favorite professor, and Remus Lupin, a werewolf and an ex-professor entered the room. Remus shook Harry's hand, but Snape gave no acknowledgement to Harry's existence. Instead, he passed his student and walked around, eyeing the cabinets.

"We had to destroy the portkey and we'll have to find a new one." He lifted up a toaster and inspected it curiously, "This will do. Lupin, charm it for me, will you?"

Remus nodded and took out his wand, setting the toaster on the counter and began muttering small incantations.

"Don't worry, Harry. The Weasleys and Hermione are at the Grimmauld, waiting for you. The burrow was destroyed in an attack of death eaters so they're staying there until the government rebuilds their house. Don't worry, they're okay. Couldn't send an any letters to you 'cause they lost their owl until today. Hermione's there because she's a muggle born and one of your friends. We just want to keep you guys safe." Tonks smiled at him weakly, her skin now morphing into an agreeable shade for her dress. She leaned over and whispered, "Stay clear of Sev, he isn't in all that good of a mood."

"When is he ever?" Harry said, glancing at the man. Severus had his eye on the living room, where Remus had headed and was pacing a little bit. It was clear that he didn't want to be there, although Harry supposed that he had to. When Remus came back with the toaster, he set it on the counter and began talking to Severus with a solemn expression.

The three others reappeared with the two men carrying Harry's stuff. Harry offered a helpful hand, but the two shook their heads in a 'no.' the short witch, which was probably only inches taller than Professor Flitwick, handed him his cloak and wand.

"If you have to use your wand, we'll vouch for you. I'm sure you won't get into a fickle. And let me tell you, those invisibility cloaks are sure hard to find, 'specially when you can't see well in the first-"

"Dursley, leave." Alastor ordered to Vernon, who had been standing silently in the corner. Alastor fished his eye out of a glass of water as he said this, and seemingly popped it back in as if to make a point.

Vernon waddled out quickly and they could hear him clogging up the stairs, probably to where his wife and son were.

Remus looked at his watch. "All right, everyone. We need to stay together. Get ready. . Three . . . two . . . one."

Harry was sent into orbit, twirling around as they flew by the portkey. All of a sudden they stopped and he and the short witch fell down hard. When he got up, he realized that they were no where near the house.

"We have to lose any possible trails the death eaters might have on us, so we're going through different keys," Moody explained. Not far off was another portkey, which happened to be a pair of old gym socks. They repeated the traveling process three more times until they ended up a dark graveyard. There, was a very old looking gravestone covered in moss. "Everyone, quickly!" Moody barked.

This portkey was the worst of them all. Unlike entering the Grimmauld through the fireplace like they did last time, they went through some kind of doorway. Harry pulled his head up to see what was going on as they traveled through space and they came to a door, which opened and catapulted them in.

It turns out that it was the door to the house. All of them, including Severus and Moody were thrown to the floor. As Harry got up and put his glasses back on, he noticed Severus helping Remus up from the floor and that his hand lingered on Remus' arm for a second or two. But his attention quickly went elsewhere as two screaming girls came hurling themselves at him.

"Harry! We missed you! Are you okay? Are you alright? Ron, Harry's here!" The girls shouted and pulled him off the floor.

"Hey mate, how's it going?" Ron said, clapping a hand on his back.

"I'm okay, but-"

"Harry, I'm sorry, but this is important. Can we have a word before you go talk to your friends? I promise you'll see them soon," Tonks said, putting a hand on his shoulder and directed him away from his friends and into the kitchen.

Seated around the table was nine people, plus two chairs: One for Tonks and one for Harry. The Advance Guard was there, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Their expressions were all unreadable, but there was definitely no sign of happiness on any of them. The murders had definitely put a toll on all of them and seemingly aged them by ten years.

"Harry . . . over this past month, a lot has happened," Mrs. Weasley began, "A war has started . . . between the death eaters and the aurors and Order."

"There are fifty-seven deaths so far and thirty-eight casualties. The Ministry is having a field day," Mr. Weasley added. "All the schools are taking precautions now and a lot of magic is being added. You'll be getting your school letter soon and I'm sure it's going to be a lot different. There is a lot going on and we are actually having a draft. Don't worry, no one in school is going to be drafted, although I might," he said with a worried expression.

"Harry, my name's Courtney Sherbet," The short witch said as her introduction, "But that's not the point. The thing is, we don't know what Voldemort is up to, even with Severus' help," She motioned to the man who glowered at her, "We don't know where he is, which makes it even worse. Severus?"

The man sighed, wishing not to have to address Harry, "As far as anyone knows, Voldemort is gone. Not dead, but disappeared. I have gotten hold of Bellatrix and even she does not know where he is, or so she says. We do know he is alive and well, however. He is getting control on the trolls in the mountains and working with dementors. The place is pure chaos."

"Yes, but aren't you getting a new Defense against the Dark Arts professor," Mrs. Weasley inquired. "Isn't she starting up a dueling club?" Harry inwardly hoped it wasn't an Umbridge clone.

"Indeed, but I don't believe the students will be up to their standards since they learned nothing last year. If I-"

"Harry, listen. We also have something else to tell you. It's about Sirius-"

"No, Tonks, not right now. I'm sure the others will want to hear about it. Together." Remus said, softly. "Later."

"Wait, what about Sirius?" Harry said, speaking for the first time in several minutes.

"Later," Remus said firmly. Severus looked like he was sucking on a lemon. "Harry, I don't think you understand the seriousness of this war. Even I didn't, for awhile. No one knows who to trust anymore; nobody. But . . . I think that's enough for now. I'm sure your friends will want to talk to you."

Harry nodded and rose, then opened the door to leave the kitchen. There was suddenly a pile of redheads at his feet, Ginny on top of Ron with Hermione 'tsking' behind them. "We didn't hear anything!" Ron said immediately.

"He's right, we couldn't. We tried." Ginny said, nodding, "It's just not the same without Gred and Forge around. Come on Harry, let's go."

"The twins have just opened a joke shop, it's down in Hogsmeade. They are making a lot of money and they're doing really well." Ron said, coming up along side Harry. "Mom was mad at first, but now she's proud of them."

"So, Harry, how were the Dursleys?" Hermione asked, her arm locked with Ginny. Hermione, although best friends with the boys, still had a feminine side to her. She and Ginny became the best of girlfriends (Not homosexual girlfriends) and Hermione acted like an older sister to her.

"Stupid. As usual. My uncle nearly had a stroke when Moody walked in. But other than that, it's okay. Did you guys know about the war?"

"Yes, we did. We're sorry we couldn't write to you, they wouldn't let us. Moody said we'd get tracked and this was the only time he'd send a letter. We're really sorry, Harry. Oh. . but you're not going to believe this," Hermione said, her eyes widened, "Someone ordered the dementors to give Lucius Malfoy the kiss!"


	2. A Walk through Diagon Alley

One review? Come now, you insult thee! PLEEEEEEEEEEEASSEEEE review. PLEEAASEEE. It makes me happy. kthx.

Chapter Two – A walk through Diagon Alley

Someone, no one knows who, ordered for Lucius Malfoy to have the Dementor's Kiss. Whoever it was had to be extremely powerful and controlling, and had to hate Lucius enough to do it. Kisses were rare and always reported in the Prophet, but this one . . . well this one would remain unknown for a long time.

After Hermione's news (which was news to all of them) she brought out an article and they discussed it for a moment. They ruled out the Ministry quickly because Fudge was easily swayed by things. It wasn't that Harry wasn't happy for the news, but he really didn't think it solved that much.

He didn't bother dwelling on the mystery; he was too busy having fun with his friends. Well, not all of it was fun. Hermione bothered him and Ron to do their homework and they had a lot of chores; the house would remain the Headquarters for awhile, and they had to keep it clean, now that Kreacher was gone.

Yes, Kreacher was gone. Killed, actually, and the death of him was pretty much unnoticed. He was getting up in years; after all . . . Hermione had a field day when she heard how he died: Someone ran over him. Ron had said 'Keerrrr-splat!' which caused him to get a severe slap. The decision for a new house elf was turned off because Hermione thought it was cruel, and because if any information got out about the Order, they'd be in big trouble.

Sometimes, Harry felt even trapped in the house. It was quite large, but he did miss going outside. He knew not to ask because the answer would still remain 'No.' The Order was very protective and so they kept themselves mostly towards small games between each other or homework. However, despite the bored ness, time actually did time by and before they knew it, it was just a week before school.

On an early Saturday morning, a bunch of people were at the breakfast table. Severus, much to his dislike and everyone else's, was there, as well. Remus had invited him over and there was nothing they could do about it. Severus, however, did act civilized. He complimented Mrs. Weasley on her cooking in such a manner that she blushed a bit as she thanked him. There was silence from his four students at that moment, never once hearing a positive phrase come out of his mouth. But he glared back at them and they returned to their normal actions.

Four owls suddenly flew into an opened window, one by one, dropping letters into the proper laps. They circled around once and were out again in a matter of seconds. Hogwarts owls, Hogwarts letters. Everyone paused to look at Hermione, who was as white as a ghost. Then it hit them all; they were receiving their O.W.L. scores.

Harry opened his letter and scanned through his results:

Charms: E  
Transfiguration: E

Defense against the Dark Arts: O  
Potions: A  
History of Magic: P  
Astronomy: E  
Care of Magical Creatures: O

Divination: D  
O.W.L. Score: 13

"Is a score of thirteen good?" Harry questioned, looking around the table. Ron nodded; he

had the same. Ginny was busy reading the new rules since she didn't have O.W.Ls yet. They turned to Harry. To say that she changed colors faster than a rainbow was not far from the truth. From pale, she went to red, to pink "Hermione . . ." He murmured carefully.

"TWENTY-ONE OWLS! TWENTY-ONE!" She screeched happily, jumping out of her chair and took Ginny into an embrace. "I'm going to be Head Girl next year . . . I just know I will! And look, I'm a prefect again! Are you, Ron? Ohmygosh, this is so exciting!"

"Uh . . . No. I'm not. I guess I'm just not fit for the whole rule-following stuff, right Harry?" Ron smirked, punching Harry's shoulder. "Harry?"

"I'm the Quidditch Captain," he mumbled.

"You're WHAT? You're the QUIDDITCH Captain?" Ron gasped, slapped Harry on the back and took the note from him. "Dear Mr. H. Potter, your former captain, Angelina Johnson, and I have decided that you would be most appropriate as the new Quidditch Captain. Your position has been reassigned now that Professor Umbridge is gone. If you do not wish to take the title as Captain, please speak to me on the first day of school. Professor M. Mcgonagall." He took a breath and passed the note around. "Blimey, this is amazing! Do I get to be keeper still?"

Harry grinned, "Yes, King Weasley, you can be the keeper." There was an exchange of hugs around until Remus pulled Harry aside.

"You want to be an auror, right? After much persuading," He glanced at Severus, "And I mean, _much_ persuading, Severus is willing to allow you into Advanced Potions, along with Ron. You will need to work extremely hard to get caught up to the others and you don't have to take it if you don't want to, but I think it's in your best interest; Potions is important in the magical defense occupations." Remus smiled softly. Harry glanced over at Severus who looked like he just ate dung, but sat poking at his food.

"I guess . . . How are we going to get caught up?"

"By tutoring, of course!"

"But-"

"Where's Hermione?" Harry said, looking up. She was nowhere to be seen.

"She's going to borrow my owl and send something to Mcgonagall. She left. . really fast." Ron shook his head.

"Girls."

"Girls."

"She's also going to get ready to go to Diagon Alley. We got our new school lists." Ginny said, turning from her mother. "Expect to leave in about an hour." The redhead said, trailing the same path Hermione took.

Getting out of the house was a bit of a task, itself. Since the fireplace was not open to the floo network at the time (at Moody's bidding,) there was a lot of frustration and grumpiness amongst everyone. On Mad Eye's instructions, they were to leave the house and get into what appeared to be a cramped car in a matter of seconds. Luckily, like many wizard objects were, the car was charmed to have more room than it appeared on the outside. When they got to London, they squeezed in between two cars directly in front of The Leaky Cauldron and hurried into the small pub.

Mrs. Weasley hadn't come and in her place as Remus and Snape. Mr. Weasley thought it was too dangerous to go to Diagon Alley by herself, so he asked if Remus would go. Remus insisted that Snape come to get some 'fresh air' in place of Mrs. Weasley who needed a break. Harry didn't know what Snape's opinion on this was, but he was sure that he didn't like it. Perhaps he was ordered by Moody because of his past experience, or maybe he really did need 'some fresh air.' He also thought that Snape might be up to something, but didn't really have the time to stop and think about that possibility, as when the entrance to Diagon Alley opened up, his mind shut down.

Years previous, the small village was crowded and high in spirits. Vendors sat outside shops and haggled with the hags. Now the vendors sat outside (in fewer numbers) and were quiet unless you approached them, where their buoyant and jubilant personalities were toned down a bit. Before, you would enter with a large smile on your face, but now it was a frown. The group fell silent and Remus spoke softly.

"This is the extremity of the war. They're saying that one in fifteen people will die by the time this is over."

"It's nonsense, really. The statistics are completely off. Everyone thinks that someone is going to come down on Diagon Alley. They wouldn't waste their time on some little town around here. If anything, it's the government buildings or anyone that holds significant power, like Potter, here."

"I don't hold power!" Harry protested with annoyance.

"Oh really? As I know, the media would stop breathing if you commanded it. There's no need to remind you that you are quite famous." Snape sneered, walking on. Harry would have shot back if Severus hadn't ended the argument in such a stiff manner. Could professors give detention when they weren't in school?

"Harry? Do you need to go to Gringotts to pick up any gold?" Remus asked. Harry felt around in his pockets – he had stuffed them with money. "No? All right, does anyone else?" There were no's all around. "All right, get your books and potion ingredients first and meet right back here in thirty minutes."

The four teenagers headed towards Flourish and Blotts while Severus and Remus hung back, then headed for a market type area. Together.

"Is it just me . . . or are those two getting friendly? D'you think Snape is up to something?" Ron asked, sticking his hands in his pockets as they headed towards the store.

"That's just what I was thinking," Harry commented. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Don't you get it?"

"Get what?"

"They- ugh, look." Ginny spoke up, and then nodded her heads in front of them. Amidst the books and witches and wizards was a head of light blonde hair. It was distinctive, as if a marking of the family: The Malfoys. It was Draco Malfoy, the son of Lucius Malfoy. He was in Harry's year and one of his worst enemies.

"I hear your father's got smooched by the dementors, Malfoy," Ron commented, taking a step forward. Harry didn't know what to say as Draco turned about. His face was it's usually hatred expression, but he seemed careless of Ron's remark.

"I'm surprised you can even afford a newspaper, Weasel. I guess you have to have a roof somehow, mm?" Draco retorted, now it was Harry's turn as Ron's ears were pinking.

"Bugger off, Malfoy. At least he has a dad who cares." Draco's expression changed. Not so much as hurt, but more like surprise. Harry had a feeling that he was going to bring up his own dad, but he didn't.

"I think you need to get your glasses checked, Potter. If you noticed, your weasel here got it going. Or maybe you're too naive to think that your friends would dare say a tart thing? Here's a hint, Potter: Think before you speak. Maybe the mudblood can inform you on thinking, since knows all about that." He didn't leave, but turned back around, advancing towards the cashier with books slung into one arm. The comment towards Hermione was quite confusing: Was it a compliment or an insult? Or both?

"Git," Ron spat, looking at his list of books. "Wow, these are all in pretty good prices, especially the Dark Arts books."

"That's because there are three books, Ronald. And there's a sale today." Hermione commented, heading for an interesting book on studying tips. Both Ginny and Ron looked pleased at her comment though; money was tight for them.

Harry looked at his list and took special notice of the Defense against the Dark Arts books. One was 'The Dark Arts: A list of dangerous spells.' That was interesting and he had no idea why the new professor would assign a book with dark spells. Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose? The second book was more understandable, 'What Not to do When Encountering Someone Evil,' and another that was simply 'Psychology.' The taste of the books' names themselves suggested that the new professor wasn't another Umbridge who was stiff and rude.

After collecting all the required books for his other classes (he wasn't taking Divination that year, or History of Magic,) he and the others went to the cashier. They had to sign several papers in order to purchase 'The Dark Arts: A list of dangerous spells,' because it was a new law instituted by the Ministry and then headed towards the apothecary. On their way over (although it was only next door) they spotted Severus and Remus walking away from some shop. Remus spotted them and waved, then pointed to his watch.

They took a bit longer in the apothecary; it was dark and they had trouble separating the black beetle eyes between the pepper roots. It also smelled pretty badly in there; Ginny shooed them out quickly. Meeting up with the two adults, Snape looked very unhappy to see them. Not like that was new, though.

"How about we stop for some ice cream?" Remus said cheerfully. The group headed over to the ice cream parlor, but as they sat on the patio outside the little shack, Severus disappeared. For some reason, Harry could picture him saying to Remus something like 'Ice cream is nonsense!'

The five sat around and enjoyed their ice creams, talking about this and that. Harry brought up how they always ran into Draco, but even Ginny pointed out that purebloods often shopped in Diagon Alley. They claimed that their mother stopped by there every other week or so to stock up on food.

As they finished their lunch, Severus returned in the midst of him placing something into his robes. Remus was the first (and only) to greet him, going up to him and conversing for a few moments.

"You will need some new equipment this year, so you will have another thirty minutes to purchase what you need. After that, we will be leaving." Severus drawled, pulling out an odd looking watch. "I rather not dawdle, if it is all the same to you."

The equipment (such as cauldron and weight measures) and stationery took a rather short period of time, giving them some time to check out the Quidditch supplies. The boys got really into it, looking at magazines and poster, but Hermione and Ginny held back, talking casually about the upcoming Quidditch games of the year.

Through The Leaky Cauldron and into the car they went, heading back for the Grimmauld. No one noticed, but for only a single moment, Remus had his hand covering Severus'.


	3. Welcome Back

(Six reviews? How dare you! I COMMAND THEE TO REVIEW! How else do I know people are reading this? )

Chapter Three – Welcome Back

A week later, it was the early morning of September first. Mrs. Weasley was obviously trying not to cry, giving everyone hugs and kisses for no other reason except she had to 'make them last' for a couple of months. She even hugged Harry and Hermione in passing as she did with her children. Mr. Weasley wasn't as dramatic, although he did pat everyone on the back now and then.

The rest of the Order acted their usual selves and Tonks spent some time the previous evening giving them tips on surviving Hogwarts for their sixth (and Ginny's fifth) year. Her ideas were sometimes a bit eccentric, like 'Sleep during History of Magic and copy down someone's notes during lunch.' Or 'Never walk on the left side of the hall.' They didn't ask about this tip; they really didn't want to know.

For breakfast, Mrs. Weasley made her 'Special pancakes with a secret syrup recipe made by my great-great-great-great-great grandmother.' Or was it great-great-great-great? No matter, the food was delicious, but there were not many people to share it. Only Tonks, Mad Eye, the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were seated at the table. Severus went back to Hogwarts and Remus was back at his own flat. Some other members of the Order only dropped in occasionally, so it wasn't really anything big for them not to be there.

They received mail from Charlie and Bill; nothing from Percy. The two older brothers apologized for not being able to see their siblings, but had been tied up or had other plans. The Weasley family each wrote back a little something, while Hermione hawked over them to make sure their grammar was proper. After a certain point, though, Ginny told her to shove it, playfully, of course.

Their method of getting to King's Cross was the same as they did to go to Diagon Alley. However, this one hosted more chaos than the last, making sure that everyone had their luggage set, nothing was lost, and that they had enough parchment and quills to get them through the semester. The ride in the car was a bit quiet with the adults up front, no doubted that they would miss the kids. However, Crookshanks, Hermione's cat, seemed to enjoy the silence and filled the car with a soft humming noise.

"It's going to be so quiet with you lot gone," Mrs. Weasley said, almost sadly. "You'll be coming home for Christmas, won't you? Hermione, maybe your parents could come. . ." What had happened the previous year made Mrs. Weasley more reluctant to let any of them go. They had left a bit late, so they really had little time to say good bye once they got to the station.

Arthur and Tonks helped them load their luggage onto the train, while Moody kept watch, glancing around. Mrs. Weasley gave her final hugs, kisses, and goodbyes while they were waiting. She reminded the teenagers on how to enter Platform nine and three quarters – casual, as to throw the muggles off. As far as anyone knew, a muggle never found out about the Platform, despite the fact that King's Cross was packed with them. Then again, the gateway was also heavily charmed to prevent and revealing.

The three dragged their trunks down the hall (the main problem had been actually getting it _onto_ the train, not so much as pushing it,) peering into compartments to see if they were empty. Some belonged to the enemies (mostly Slytherins) of the trio, although a few Ravenclaws disliked Hermione; jealousy more than anything. Curiously enough, Draco was sitting alone in a compartment, mindlessly playing with his wand. The next compartment up held his two goons, Goyle and Crabbe, along with some other of his favorite Slytherins.

There were no empty compartments, but somewhere near the back was one that hosted Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. Ginny had abandoned them to go sit with some friends, so the three others asked if they could cram in with the two. Kindhearted and good spirited, that, or just uncaring, they said yes and the trio plunked themselves down.

Neville was a plump, slightly nervous boy in Harry's year. He was a Gryffindor as well, and showed his true colors the previous spring, helping Harry and the others at the Department of Mysteries in their time of need. Although he and Harry were on different ends of extremities in some cases, they also had a lot in common. They both saw the thestrals, and they both lost people they loved. However, Neville seemed to look on the bright side of things when he wasn't scared of something, but today he looked a little pale.

Luna Lovegood was a Ravenclaw in Ginny's year, and who was teased on quite often. She was called 'Loony Luna Lovegood' and in some cases, for understandable reasons. She dressed oddly, more odd than the standard witch, and acted even more strange. She had long blonde hair and dreamy eyes that seemed sleepy or dazed most of the time, and her personality reflected that. That day she wore her robes, as well as a pink boa and her coconut sized hoop earrings. She lowered _The Quibbler _(which her father was the editor of; it was also upside down, but that's not the point,) and greeted the three with hugs. Neville and Harry met eye to eye; she had greeted him the same way. Ron cough-snorted at this and Hermione smacked his arm.

"Hey, you guys. How was your summer? Neville, what's up?" Harry said, sitting across from him as he slid his luggage under the seat. Ron sat down next to him and Hermione sat next to Neville. Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Neville . . . did something happen to Trevor?" She asked tenderly. There was no sign of the toad in sight. Neville paled even more.

"A . . . a cat got him!" Neville said in dry sobs. Luna looked awkward, obviously already hearing about it, and turned back to her magazine. Harry and Ron met eye to eye; it was just a toad. Then again, Ron would be miserable without Pig, his hyper owl, and Harry would be mortified without Hedwig. Hermione, however, gave off sympathy.

"Oh, Neville. I'm sorry; but he's in a better place now."

"Yeah, and there's a cat that's not starving anymore!"

"RONALD!" Hermione scolded. Luna lowered her magazine and changed the subject.

"Did you guys here about the new professor? I hear he has two heads and owns a Crunkle Hooker. I don't think anyone should own such wonderful creatures; maybe I can show him my dad's latest editorial on it."

"Come on, Luna, there's no such thing as Crunkle Hookers, my father would know – he's friends with people in the Control of Magical Creatures!

"That's because their invisible," Luna said disdainfully.

"Well how-" Ron began to argue, but Hermione hushed him.

"Come on, Ron. They'll be calling the prefects soon. We should be back sooner, this time."

The two left, and as they walked down the hall, Harry could see that Hermione was lecturing him, what with her expressions and hand gestures. They disappeared quickly though, so Harry was stuck by himself with two of the strangest people he knew. He slumped back in his seat and was about to say something when he was saved by the trolley.

A short, old woman with a friendly face and pink cheeks came past their compartment and stopped to greet them. She was earlier than usual, but insisted it was better that way so they students would be hungry for dinner. Harry bought a bunch of things (he was having a craving for sugar at the time) and then bought some stuff for Hermione and Ron, since the witch didn't stop by the prefects' compartment as 'not to disturb them.' Before she left, Harry looked at the two other companions and asked if they wanted anything. They said no, but thanked him, and Harry was left with a large pile of junk food for himself. It felt awkward to eat it, so he resorted to popping a chocolate into his mouth only now and then.

"So, Harry . . . um . . . how was your summer?" Neville said. He remembered how upset Harry was over his loss, and was careful not to step on the wrong nerve.

"It was fine, Neville. Thanks. I had to stay with the Dursleys for about a month, then I went to the Grimmauld. Yes, I'm doing fine without Sirius, although I do miss him," He added, to answer the question that would eventually be asked. "What about you?"

The three exchanged short summaries of their summers (although Luna's was quite long, but it was mainly drabble about random animals she and her dad had been looking for,) and the subject went towards the new year and O.W.Ls scores, although Luna went back to her magazine when the topic approached that, for she had yet to take the tests.

About ten minutes later, Hermione and Ron came back, with nothing to report but a whole bunch of rules.

"We're not supposed to let our friends into specified Prefect areas," Hermione warned, sitting back down. "I personally think that it is unfair, but then again, it wouldn't be a privilege if everyone knew about it. And I really don't want to break any rules, so. . I'm sorry." She clearly felt guilty for not being able to tell Harry about some of their freedoms and places they could go. The year before, since there was such chaos, there really wasn't much enforcement on any rules.

"Yeah," Ron nodded, "So that means I can't tell you that the Prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor's password is Knobber-wabble." Harry grinned.

"Ronald!" Hermione snapped.

"Oops. . ." The redhead said innocently. Glancing over at Neville and Luna, Harry figured that they "didn't hear" the password, so to speak. Harry probably wouldn't use it; he didn't want to get caught, either.

"So, did you hear anything about the new professor?" Neville asked, turning to Hermione. The brunette shook her head, curls and frizz bouncing a bit.

"Ron asked, but Professor Mcgonagall just said that the professor was at Hogwarts. She didn't even say 'she' or 'he.' And now I am almost dying to find out. I hope it's not another Umbridge or Moody." Hermione muttered, scrunching up her eyebrows. "I don't mean to sound rude when I talk about our professors, but that woman was just a . . . a . . ."

"Bitch." Ron quipped up.

"RONALD!"

"What! I was just finishing your sentence."

"Must you be so _crass_ about it?" Hermione reprimanded.

"What's crass mean, Harry?"

For another six hours, the group rode the train, talking, playing games, and eating Harry's junk food. They put on their school robes and hats as they neared Hogwarts.

Getting off the train was a bit hard; everyone wanted to get off at once and the narrow hallways were packed. Luckily, there was a door by their compartment, so the group got off pretty quickly. Luna went over to greet some fellow Ravenclaws and the other four went in search for other Gryffindors. They spotted Hagrid, a half giant friend, who was guiding the first years.

"First 'ears this way, first 'years this - Harry!" Hagrid bellowed, greeting him and the other three. They waved to one another and left Hagrid to do his job, guiding the first years towards the boats that would take them across shore.

"Come on, Harry. We can't dawdle or we won't have a carriage to ride in!" Hermione shouted over the roar of other students.

They found an empty compartment quickly, although two second years had to cram in with them. The ride was quite and bumpy, although the two young boys whispered to each other now and then, glancing at the other four. Words such as 'bigger' and 'hex us' popped up now and then. Ron obviously heard, because he was grinning.

As they neared the castle, the second years looked in awe, mouths gaping and eyes wide. Harry couldn't help but feel the same way; Hogwarts was his real home. Okay, so maybe he didn't miss the homework and tests, but everything else about the school was something he enjoyed.

As they got off, the second years (who happened to be Slytherins as he saw their robes in the moonlight,) went back to their other house members and the four teenagers headed into the entrance chamber. Ghosts lazily flew around and Professor Flitwick was there to greet them; Professor Mcgonagall was probably waiting for the first year students. At first, they thought Flitwick was waving to them, but they realized he had his wand raised and was yelling to someone; Peeves, the poltergeist.

Peeves held dung bombs in his arms and was swooping down on the crowd, threateningly. He made a beeline for Harry with one of the bombs, but as the Gryffindor ducked a way, a spell was shouted. "_Arresto Mementum! Reotracto Reflectin!_"

The spell caster was unidentified, but the effect was quite humorous. The dung bomb slowed down in a jolt and shot back towards Peeves and booted him in the stomach, exploding as it did. The smell, since Peeves was high up in the air, was not overly bad. Flitwick cast a spell to get rid of the odor and the poltergeist flew into the walls, angrily. The fat friar was giggling.

The Great Hall was lit with hundreds of candles, possibly thousands of candles. The first thing Harry looked for was the new Defense against the Dark Arts professor. He scanned the table but didn't spot anyone knew, which was really weird. Was someone taking over for the position? If Snape got the job . . .

Students filtered into the Great Hall quickly and took their seats. He spotted Cho Chang, her long hair, swaying hips, and all, but did not get a 'feeling' in him anymore when he saw her. After the previous year, he thought that enough was enough and chose to move on, although he had no one to move on with, so to speak.

He scanned the Hall and paused on Draco Malfoy. He wore his robes as usual and his hair was slicked back for the most part. Harry took notice to how slender he actually was. Strangely enough, although he was petite in shape (although not height) he still had control over many people. This probably had to do with the thugs that always sat on either side of him. That day, however, Pansy Parkinson was attached to his arm, stroking it. The picture was sickening, and Malfoy appeared to feel the same. For just a moment, their eyes met. Draco looked away, lazily, and took his attention elsewhere.

"Malfoy's a freak," Harry muttered to Ron. His best friend took no time in agreeing with him full heartedly and the two went onto chatter, while Hermione shushed them as the first years came in.

There were about forty first years, most looking around with curiosity and fear. Harry remembered his first year, nervous about whether or not he would be placed into any house. A tall, lanky girl saw him and smiled halfheartedly – he returned it. He looked up near the Head Table and saw the three legged stool and the old hat, looking plain and beat up as ever.

Professor Mcgonagall passed them and stood in front, gazing not only at them but at everyone with her firm 'do not laugh' expression. She looked at Harry, and Hermione, and Ron, as well as others from his house and the others. Finally, when there was utter silence, she spoke up.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, I am Professor Mcgonagall. Before the introduction and feast begin, we will have the Sorting Ceremony.

_Though I'm old and frayed,  
Once a year, on your head I'm laid.  
You may think it's funny,  
That I know where you'll be,  
But be in no doubt, I have a mind.  
So give me a chance and see.  
Bold and brave is Gryffindor,_

_With valiance is what they seek,_

_And then there are the thoughtful Hufflepuffs,_

_Who think before they speak. _

_The Ravenclaws are brilliant,_

_Who know just what to do._

_Strong minded Slytherins there are,_

_Know just where to turn to._

_You all have questions and I have replies,_

_So come and see where your true heart lies._

And then there was silence for a moment, before the roar of clapping began. Hermione commented on the shortness of the song, although she did like it. Harry enjoyed the changing expressions of the first years' faces, some going to fear and others to a sense of relief. As the first student was called, Harry tuned out. He was sure he would learn their names throughout the year.

The new prefects in his house were Colin Creevey and some girl he didn't know. Through all the hats he couldn't see who the other prefects of other houses were. He knew Luna wasn't a prefect and he was pretty sure Cho wasn't one, either.

His gaze went back to the Sorting Hat and watched as several first years were sorted (only one went into Gryffindor, although there were now a few at the table,) and he saw a door behind the Head table open. A woman entered, whispered something to Professor Dumbledore, and then sat down in between Hagrid and Flitwick. She was young and pretty (for a teacher), with short, red hair, and small framed glasses. The professor (he assumed she was the new one,) was tall and overweight, but she didn't seem huge or terrifying. She placed her hands on her lap and looked around, smiling at students and even at Harry.

Filch came up and took the stool and hat, glaring at students as he went. Albus smiled softly and rose, calming the crowd once more. Albus was the headmaster and had a calm, friendly appearance. Today, he wore soft blue robes and a flower behind his ear.

"Welcome, students, welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. For those of you who are new and for those of you with bad memories, I am Albus Dumbledore, your headmaster. I have several announcements to make. Professor Sprout, your Herbology instructor, will be out for one week. Until then, you will not have her lessons." There were cheers amongst the crowd. It was not that they didn't like Professor Sprout, but any teenager was glad for some free time.

"I would like to welcome your new Defense against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Sombra." The young woman waved and pushed her glasses up (in a bit of a nerdy fashion.)

"As you know, there is a war going on. Do not worry; Hogwarts is going through extra measures in keeping all students here safe. However, to prepare you for life outside the school or any possible attacks, Professor Sombra has suggested bringing about the Dueling Club once more. Professor Sombra?"

"Thank you," she said, rising from her seat. "I am aware of the D.A. that took place this previous year and I am proud of those who did it and thought enough to create it. I ask, however, that you discontinue it behind our backs; for the single reason that someone could easily get hurt. I do not want the creators' of this to take offense by my comment, but I and the rest of your professors' feel that it is best for the welfare of everyone. Tutoring, however, is very much welcome, so long as the numbers are small and the teacher is qualified.

"But onto the Dueling Club. Saturday, after lunch, and Mondays and Thursdays after dinner, there will be a Dueling Club in the antechamber in the next hall for all those in second year and above. Meetings will last an hour and a half and I will always be there, as well as your Professors Snape and Flitwick will be there often. First years, there will be two classes: On Sunday and Friday after lunch. Meetings for first years will be two hours long. You do not need to attend any meetings, but if you do, please frequent. Thank you."

She sat down and students clapped; Harry looked over at Snape, whose expression was neutral. However, the man caught him staring and narrowed his eyes, sneering. Albus stood back up.

"I want to welcome you all back to Hogwarts and I hope this will be a more joyful year. My final words are simply to enjoy the feast!" He clapped his hands and the food appeared. Some of the new students sprung back in surprise at all the food they saw, but the other ones dug in.

"Moon shadow," Hermione said. The fat lady in her pink dress grumbled, slightly tipsy at the moment, and the door swung open. Harry and Ron yawned, unlike some of the students who headed straight for the couch or tables, they were tired. "Good night Harry, Ron. Come on Ginny, let's go upstairs." Hermione hugged the two boys and then waved good night, splitting up and heading up to the girls' dormitory.

Harry and Ron met up with the other sixth year boys and they went up together. Harry was extremely tired and was ready to flop down on his bed, right then and there. But he didn't, for there was something on it.

Every year, the boys' had the same beds. Or at least, in the same order. Dean, Ron, Harry, Seamus, and Neville, all in that order. So when there was a note on the bed, they all knew who it was for.

Sitting on the bed, with the boys hovering around him, Harry picked up the note and studied it. It was a folded up piece of parchment and with it, was a single red rose. There were Oo's from everyone, causing Harry to blush, and they encouraged him to open it.

_Harry –_

_Of luminous glow your skin shines at night,  
Wandering fingers on your body – delight.  
Like Adonis you bring the highest passion,  
Earn you in my secret fashion.  
Read into the words, before the lines,  
You have now been given one of the many signs._

The wording was in a very elegant, drawn out fashion and very distinct, but it didn't look familiar to him. The writer was obviously a romantic, for the poem was very intimate and there had been a rose. It was all very baffling and he was extremely tired then. He read it several times and realized that it was almost like a riddle. He'd ask Hermione first thing in the morning.

"Ooh," Seamus smirked, "Harry's got a girlfriend!"


	4. Professor Sombra

(Yess! More reviews. Keep 'em coming, my lovelies! 3)

Chapter Four – Professor Sombra

"Wow! How _romantic_!" Hermione gushed as they walked down the halls. The note was in her hands and the rose was up in the dormitory. "Like Adonis you bring the highest passion . . . Harry, whoever this is, they're really serious about you!" She lowered her voice as the entered the Great Hall and took a seat near the far end of the table, away from any eavesdroppers.

"But what does it mean?" He asked, reading the note upside down. She scanned it once more.

"Well, Adonis is one of the Greek Gods of Beauty; in other words, someone thinks you're really attractive. And the person is definitely a – Ohmygosh! It _is_ riddle!"

"What do you mean?" Ron tuned in. Hermione turned the note around so Harry could see it better.

"Read before the lines? Don't you get it? What spells out a word in here?" There was no answer, "Look. What comes before the lines? The first letter. Here, see. O W L E R Y. Owlery! And there's this 'one of the many signs.' Signs, like clues. I really think you should go to the Owlery and see if there's something there. I'll bet you a galleon each there is!" Hermione sat back in triumph and Harry scanned the poem. It was a pretty big coincidence that the poem spelled out 'Owlery.'

"I don't know . . ."

"Come on, Harry. Whoever it is put a lot of thought into it. What do you have to lose? Besides, don't you want to know who it is?"

"Well . . ."

"No. Just do it. When you get some free time, go up to the Owlery and look around. Now, eat breakfast," Hermione ordered, "Ooh, here are our schedules. We all have Defense first. And then there's Arithmancy . . . oh wait, neither of you take that . . ."

Harry scanned the note, and then raised his head to see if anyone was staring at him, if there was anyway he could get a hint. He folded up the note and tucked it into his pants pocket. Maybe he would go to the Owlery . . . there was really nothing to lose.

After breakfast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went up to Defense against the Dark Arts early, to check out the new professor. She seemed nice enough; and at the very least, not like any of the other professors they had. Well, maybe with the exception of Remus.

In the classroom, there were boxes stacked here and there. One was on the corner of her desk, dangerous close to falling and others were in corners or on the counter. A door behind the classroom (presumably her office) was open. Professor Sombra walked out and smiled at them cheerfully as she picked up another box from the counter.

"Oh, why – ugh, hello there. Early ones? Well, at least you won't be late for the bell." She smiled and walked through her office door.

"Do you need any help?" Hermione called.

"No, I'm fine. Thanks."

"Oh . . . It's Malfoy," Ron said as they sat down. He and several students came in at the same time as their professor came back in from her office, shutting the door.

"Now, Mr . . . . Weasley is it. I do not condone rude behavior or comments in my classroom."

"Yeah, Weasel, learn your manners," Malfoy sneered.

"If it is all the same to you, Mr. Malfoy, that was not a one way street. Please, take a seat everyone. Fill in the seats up front, thank you," She motioned to some of the teenagers trying to take a seat in the back. Draco took one directly behind Harry.

Professor Sombra smiled at the newcomers and, while awaiting the rest, she opened her office door and squatted, as if beckoning something to come out. A small cat did, with long black fur and a pretty tail. The door closed and the woman picked up her cat, nuzzling her and carrying her around for a bit, just for some companionship. She set the feline down on a random desk. The cat crawled into Hailey Smith's lap (a seventh year Ravenclaw) and made herself comfortable.

The bell rang and with a wave of a wand, the door shut. Professor Sombra took a seat on top of the desk as opposed to at her seat or standing. She crossed her ankles and smiled at the students, waiting for them to quiet down. Once there was absolute silence (except the purring of a cat,) she began.

"Hello, my name is Professor Sombra. The cat in the young woman's lap is mine her name is Shadow. I ask that you treat her with respect, treat me with respect, and treat your fellow classmates with respect. Not hard to follow, I hope." She gazed around the classroom, "Twenty-three of you, this is a large class and we will be using a lot of dangerous spells.

"My number one rule is, and will always be up until the day you leave end this year is that there are absolutely no distractions during spell casting. No rude remarks, no sudden gestures, nothing. A single syllable pronounced incorrectly, one movement of the hand the wrong way, one missed target could lead to disaster. If someone gets hurt and it is your fault, you will be punished. Severely. Does anyone _not_ understand this? Good."

"My second rule is that there will be no bull shit in here. Yes, that is right; I _swore_ she said, looking at one of the Hufflepuffs. "I am very serious when I say this. I don't care who you are or who cheated on you outside of class, in here; it's training to defend yourselves. Likewise, I will not tolerate any insults towards anyone in my classroom, whether or not said people are there at the time.

"However, I enjoy talking to students and helping people with problems. You can come to me outside of class when I have free time and we can talk. I will keep whatever you say secret, what is between us will stay between us.

"I do not grade homework," There were cheers all around; "It doesn't really matter. Those of you who are determined to succeed will do your homework whether or not it is graded. You will soon find that practice is important, you learn by repetition and studying. However, I cannot force that down your throats, so I won't bother trying."

She turned around for a moment before taking out what looked like a grade book or notebook. Reading and scanning and flipping pages, she talked. "I have to say, you really did learn some . . . eh, interesting things through your school years. Professor Nigel, as you seventh years might know, did a suitable job in teaching you the basics, as did Professor Quirrell. Sure, he wasn't in the right frame of mind, but he did teach you properly.

"When it came to Lockhart, I noticed, you did learn a little bit. Whether it was important at the time is beside the point. Personally, that would have been more of first year studies; with some of the stuff he taught the sixth years and even you seventh years. Professor Lupin seems to have done the best job in my opinion, so although he has resigned for teaching, I'll refer to him as a professor." There was a shout from one of the students, "Yeah, never mind he was a werewolf!" She did not respond but continued on. Harry wished that she would have yelled at the mysterious heckler. "Moody was a bit of a harsh teacher and focused mostly on the Unforgivables. I can understand briefing you on their history at that time, but not actually doing them. I would save that for seventh years, but since you already know about that, I won't have to do it.

"And that Umbridge woman last year . . . was basically full of it," She smiled and the students laughed. "Hopefully I'll consider myself a good teacher this year." There was a pause as she gazed around the classroom. Hopping off her desk, she walked down one of the rows and towards a student, a Slytherin seventh year Adrian Pucey.

"Mr. Pucey here seems to have a dislike for certain creatures. Tell me, Mr. Pucey, when did Professor Lupin transform into a werewolf?" She spoke directly to him. He grinned, almost nervously at his fellow housemates.

"On the full moon."

"And what about all the other times? What was he then?"

"A human . . ."

"Please remind me of one of my second rule, Mr. Pucey."

"Oh all right," He grumbled, rolling his eyes and looked at the table.

"Mr. Pucey?"

"Don't insult people in here, I got'cha."

"Good," Professor Sombra stared at him for another few moments before turning around and walking back down the row. "Werewolves, up until 1947, were considered beasts, and a note has been added in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them; the book I'm sure all you have heard about and read of. Werewolves are not dangerous, or evil. The persona of the wolf in its human form can be, however. The wolf part acts out purely on instinct and nothing more. However, there is one creature that does not act out instinct, besides trolls and giants. This creature knows between right and wrong, but does not care. Does anyone know what it is?"

A hand rose up, "A dragon?"

"No, but that is a nice try, Miss. Chang. Dragons normally attack for food. When you hear stories of them swooping in on villages, it is either doing so for one of three reasons: Food, territory, or fear. Anyone else?" Hermione's hand rose.

"Dementors?"

"Very good! That is excellent; five points to Gryffindor. Dementors may not speak, but they do indeed have coherent thoughts; studies proving this. They may not necessarily have feelings, for that would defeat their existence, but they do know from right or wrong. They do not have to feed solely on happy thoughts, much to the common disbelief. They are evil, by their very nature, and could easily take away bad thoughts but choose not to in order to hurt us. Yes Miss. . . . Patil?"

"Yes. Um, so that's the reason that they guard Azkaban? To punish the prisoners?"

"No. Being in Azkaban itself is enough of a punishment, as muggle crimes do. But where are you going to put such creatures as them? There really are no other places except that. However, they do seem to be working very well at Azkaban; the Ministry hasn't decided to move them, although it'd be a bit hard, now."

"Why isn't You-Know-Who affected by the dementors?" Parvati continued to inquire, listening to the professor. The 'You-Know-Who' got people stirring a bit more than they already were.

Professor Sombra flicked her wand and two glasses of water and a cauldron appeared, floating in the air. "Say this glass represents dementors and say this glass represents Voldemort and his followers. What do the glasses have in common?" She nodded towards Hannah Abbott.

"They're both filled with water."

"Right. And what do dementors and Voldemort have in common?"

"They're both . . . both evil."

"Exactly. So, if I put these two glasses of water into the cauldron, nothing happens to the water, does it? Two evils do not affect each other. However, like the water in the cauldron, combining the two makes the amount larger. So if I were to say, throw a glass of water on Mr. Malfoy here or throw the cauldron of water on him, which would be worse?" There were grins exchanged between Harry and Ron. Malfoy remained neutral.

Lisa Turpin spoke up, "The cauldron of water would be worse."

"Yes, but why?"

"The force is greater?"

"Precisely. Five points to Ravenclaw. The force is greater, like when the forces of evil combine. But we can fight it back, by combining other forces, say, this school with Durmstrang. I know it sounds corny, but really, it is true." She flicked her wand again and the glasses disappeared, with a teabag reappearing. Professor Sombra placed the teabag in the cauldron and began stirring it about.

"And don't look at me like that. I only did the demonstration like that because I wanted some tea."

"A bit of a nutter, she is." Ron said as they met up again at lunch. "But I like her. I only wished that she would have "proven" her point."

"Ronald!" Hermione scorned, "Harry, why don't you go up to the Owlery and see if your admirer left you anything. We have a lot of time before our next class."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Harry said, pocketing a bun. "Do you guys want to come?"

"Harry, I don't think we should. This admirer intended for the note to be directed towards you, not us. I really think you should try figuring the rest of the riddles out on your own."

"So you're not going to help me?" Harry asked, frowning.

"If the riddles were directed towards me, then I would. But no. And don't go asking anyone else. Besides, I need to do some Arithmancy studies." She finished up her bun, "But I'll walk out with you till I have to head for the library. Ron, don't you go getting involved in this, either. Besides, you definitely need to study up on your Potions this year, some come on."

Having his sleeve tugged at, Ron grumbled and got up. The trio walked with Harry until they had to turn the corner to the library and then he was on his own.

He was a bit annoyed that Hermione was refusing to help him, but she did have a point. The writer must have thought that he could figure them out by himself, although whoever she was was ten times more creative then he'd ever be.

The walk up there was pretty far. There were two entrances to the Owlery, one was outside, about two hundred meters away from Hagrid's hut and lead up to its entrance with a spiraling staircase. The other one was on the third floor. So he had to climb stairs, walk down a hall, climb more stairs, and repeat the process.

Upon reaching said Owlery, he gazed around, looking for a large neon sign that said "Look here." There wasn't one, of course. He walked around the circular room a few times, peering out the windows now and then and avoiding all possible "gifts" from the owls. He sighed.

"This is so stupid . . ." Harry was about to turn around when an owl came shooting in. It was a magnificent sight, actually. It turned from a bullet into a monster, spreading its wings out to slow down. Without stopping, it dropped a note and a rose into the Gryffindor's hands and kicked off a wall, going back the way it came. Harry stood, speechless in his position, and watched until the bird disappeared.

Harry put the rose in between two fingers and opened the note. Inside it was another poem:

_I once protected many from harm,  
Yet where I'm near  
Now it is clear,   
I did not protect the people here._

I'd like to thank Cassafras from Gaia online for creating the latest riddle. Thank you!

Remember, folks. Review!


	5. Bjorn Thwaite

Sorry for the delay. Now that I have school again, it'll be a bit harder to work. Also, the following few chapters are going to be a bit complicated. But I will keep on going. Thanks for the reviews; keep them coming!

Chapter Five – Bjorn Thwaite

It had taken Harry two days to figure out what the new riddle meant. And already Transfiguration was boring him. They would be reviewing for a week and the majority of the hour long classes were all on writing. So, he had taken out the riddle and placed it beside his notebook, writing a bit and then looking at the short poem. Somewhere during Wedsnesday's class after lunch, a sudden thought occurred to him. There were two places in Hogwarts where there were rows of suits of armor, or, 'protective' covering. The Entrance Hall and the wing leading towards the Infirmary ring.

The realization had been a bit humorous, what with him staring at it blankly. He had flown back in his seat shouting "Infirmary!" Professor Mcgonagall asked if something was the matter.

"I, uh, feel ill. I need to go to the wing," He had said. She allowed him to go and he went up, looking at each suit of armor carefully, for some sort of hint. After going through them all twice and finding nothing, he accepted defeat. Hermione insisted that he keep on trying whenever he got the chance. It was bound to turn up at some point.

"After this we get to go to our first dueling class," Hermione said at dinner the next day. "And she'll probably have you demonstrate stuff, Harry, because of last year. This is going to be so much fun; we'll probably get to help out the second years."

"Funf?" Ron muttered through his chicken leg, "Wruh par of little bahs – is fun?"

"One day you're going to have one of those little brats, Ronald. And must you talk with your mouth full?"

"Yes," Ron grumbled, "I hope she doesn't pull a Lockhart on us."

"Nah, I don't think she will," Harry said, "She's a pretty cool teacher. But do you think Snape will be there?"

"Well, most likely. This is the first day and all, so Professor Flitwick will probably be there, too. I wonder how they are going to teach, because the antechamber is a little small for two hundred kids or so. And they'll have to have a good sized ramp to practice on . . ."

"Maybe they'll expand the room with magic or something?" Harry suggested.

"That's true; although this is Hogwarts and they have a lot of magic. It'd be a little hard for the professors to change things about it."

"But wha' abo-"

"Chew your food, Ron."

"But what about the Room of Requirement?"

"Well . . . that place was charmed . . . I don't know," Hermione said. She turned to Harry, "So, how when are you doing tryouts?"

"On Saturday, about half an hour after breakfast. We need two beaters and two chasers; but Ginny is a shoe in because of last year," Harry noted; Ginny had done a very helpful job the previous year as a substitute seeker.

"I think I'm getting better," Ron said cheerfully. "Do you have any ideas for beaters or a chaser? Ginny's always wanted to be a chaser."

"Not really, I don't remember try outs last year. You and the others are going to have to be at tryouts though, in case we do a scrimmage."

"Okay, I'll tell Katie when I see her. I think she's at the library right now,"

"Shh!" Hermione and several others whispered sharply. Professor Dumbledore had risen.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have an extremely important announcement to make; I do not believe you understand the size of it.

"Igor Karkaroff, Durmstrang's headmaster, has been captured once more as a death eater," The trio looked at each other, not really understanding how this announcement was at all important. "The new headmaster is a good friend of mine and has suggested something I think you will be pleased to hear. Now that the war has started once more, we all feel that it is important to unite.

"Bjorn Thwaite has made a suggestion that we have one hundred of Hogwarts' finest students attend Durmstrang for the year," There was a gasp amongst the crowd and soft whispering began, but Albus settled them down. Their Dark Arts class has been taken away by request of the Ministry and in place, Professor Sombra will join you on your Durmstrang visit and teach Defense against the Dark Arts. I will substitute here, until we can find a replacement. Professor Snape will also be joining, as there is no longer a Potions professor at Durmstrang. Firenze has informed me that he knows a little about herbs and potions, so he will be filling in Professor Snape's position." Harry snorted; Snape was definitely seething over this.

"Because many of the students who leave are in Quidditch, all Quidditch games are cancelled, although practicing and play-games are permitted. The Quidditch pitch is now accessible to anyone.

"There are one hundred spots available to go to Durmstrang. Only years five and above are permitted; with sixth and seventh years having first 'grabs.' The group will leave on October first. More information will be posted in your common room, and tomorrow morning there will be a sign up sheet in the Great Hall. If you have any questions, you can come to your head of house or me." He nodded to the students in ending for dinner; the majority of them rose except for three.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked. She had a sad look on her face and she was staring at the table top.

"I can't go."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a muggle-born." She informed softly. Harry and Ron looked at each other. "Muggle-borns are not welcome in Durmstrang, they're not accepted. Her eyes were welling up a little bit. "It would have been so educational to go to a – a different school and s-see new cultures. I've always wanted t-to travel but I can't," Hermione sobbed, "All because I'm a muggle-born witch!"

Ron looked at Harry awkwardly and shrugged, patting Hermione on the arm. "Why don't you talk to Mcgonagall? You're the smartest witch here; surely they can make an exception!" Hermione shrugged while wiping her eyes.

"Yeah, c'mon. Why don't we talk to Professor Dumbledore? He's still up there," Harry added, rising up and pulling on her sleeve.

She rose and Ron did, too, and the three made their way towards the Head Table. Professor Mcgonagall and Professor Dumbledore looked at them expectantly; seeming to know the problem at hand.

"Is there any way I can go to Durmstrang?" Hermione said mildly.

"Miss Granger, it was Karkaroff who made that rule and now that he is gone, I am sure things have changed. However, I will be willing to write to Professor Thwaite. Do you boys wish to go as well?"

"Uh. . ." The two chorused, looking at each other. Neither of them really knew.

"Sure," Ron said, shrugging. Harry thought about it. It sounded pretty cool . . .

"I guess so. . ."

"Good. But let me warn you, you will not be able to go to the Grimmauld for Christmas. The transportation from Durmstrang is a bit different and it would take much too long to travel back home. In case you are wondering, Harry, I will be at Durmstrang often to visit." Harry nodded. "Now, go on to your common room, you three.

Harry returned to the Infirmary wing instead to check the suits of armor, determined to find out who was putting him up to all of this. Finally, the next morning before breakfast, he went up to the last suit of armor directly beside the door to the Infirmary. Inside the mask were a note and a rose. For the moment, he had left the rose there and read the note.

'_A little impatient, aren't you?_' Was scrawled on one side, on the other was the riddle:

_The goal of the game is to defeat  
But where do you go when you're beat?_

The Quidditch pitch.

Harry was proud about how fast he had gotten that riddle solved, all in a matter of seconds. But now he was stumped; there were going to be no more games unless he did one of those 'fake' ones. But no, that seemed too sporadic for his writer. Whoever it was knew what they were doing and had a handle on things.

Maybe it was a Quidditch book? When you're defeated, you go to see what you did wrong and get some ideas. After breakfast, he would go to the library and go through any Quidditch books he could find.

Walking down the halls, heading to the Great Hall, he crossed paths with Malfoy. The Slytherin paused in his step and shoved his hands into his pockets, giving Harry a sneer.

"All alone, Potter? Whatever happened to the Weasel-Dee and Weasel-Dum? Off making little rodents together?"

"Bugger off, Malfoy." Harry said, shoving past the man.

"Your place or mine?" The Gryffindor turned around.

"What the _hell_ do you want, Malfoy?"

"I already asked you."

"Shut up."

"How mature," Malfoy sniggered. "See you later, Potter."

Harry narrowed his eyebrows and kept on walking. Malfoy was such a jerk. A disgusting, good for nothing idiot –

Well, another part of him thought, he hadn't really been nasty that year. It was true; sort of. Malfoy really hadn't been that much a dick so far. A little annoying yes, but truth be told, even in the previous few years he had gotten better. Maybe Hermione was right, people do change.

When Harry thought about it, he agreed. The three friends really grew up from the first time they had met. Ron wasn't as shy anymore, although he could still be a little obnoxious. Hermione was way less bossy than she had been in their first year, and Harry was. . well. . . Harry was. . .

Had he changed?

There really was no time to dwell on it; the loudness of the Great Hall pushed away any room for thinking. He noticed a large crowd gathered around one of the side doors; presumably around the sign up list. Hermione and Ron were already at the table and beckoned him over.

"I already signed us up; you wanted to go, right?" Hermione said, "I got a copy of what was in the common room this morning, I think you missed it. It's the basic rules and stuff for when we go."

"Plus, we'll get money!" Ron threw in.

_You will depart at noon of October first at the main docks of the Black Lake._

_All those who go will receive ten galleons for participation._

_Robes must be handed in two days prior to leaving on October first. You will receive your robes back the morning of your trip._

_Books will be provided for you._

_Please take all belongings with you; you will not be returning back to Hogwarts until the end of the year._

_You will be unable to visit home during Christmas or spring break due to where your location will be._

_Please represent Hogwarts with dignity and pride._

"I'm going to assume that the galleons we will receive will probably be used to buy any other necessary items for the trip," Hermione pointed out once Harry set down his piece of paper. "I sent a letter to Krum," Ron grunted, "He graduated a few years ago. I'm asking him about the school. Harry scanned over the note again.

"Why do we have to hand in our robes?"

"Probably because their uniform is red. I guess they'll just charm our robes the appropriate color. It'll be really hard, though; I might offer to help. With coloring charms, you have to do it one robe at a time."

"So, Harry, have you gotten a new note yet?" Ron asked. Harry swallowed a piece of his bagel.

"Yeah, I think I need to go to the library though. It's either a Quidditch book or the Quidditch field. Want to come help me go through the books?"

"Yeah, sure," Ron said, stuffing a croissant into his pocket.

"Sorry, Harry. Ginny and I need to study."

"Why?"

"We'll still be learning basically the same stuff. We need to get good grades even while we're still here." The two boys stared at her. "Ohh, never mind. Neville, have you seen Ginny?"

The library was only a short walk away, but Harry did have time to tell Ron about the Malfoy run-in.

"I'm sorry to say, mate, but he's going on the trip, too."

"Maybe if we're lucky, he'll find some other people to bother."

Ron disagreed, "He's stupid, but not that stupid. Any one of those Bulgarian guys could knock him out of his shoes in one blow." The two laughed, but were hushed once they got into the library.

"Okay, how about you talk one side of the row and I'll take the other," Harry whispered. There was an entire section dedicated to Quidditch in some form of another. Whether it be game play strategies or fictional stories on it.

Harry went through one shelf, then another, and another, passing _A Tale of Two Bludgers_ and _Quidditch, the Pitch_, finding nothing as he went. As he went to get a small ladder, he noticed that forty minutes had gone by.

"Find anything yet?" He asked Ron, who peeked at him through an encyclopedia of rules on Quidditch.

"No, mate, sorry. I near cleared everything over here."

Harry climbed the ladder and was level with the top book shelf. He began to pull books out and flip through them, when he noticed a flash of green hidden in the dark in the back of the shelf.

He pulled it out; a thin book, none other than Quidditch through the Ages. Flipping quickly through the pages, he almost missed it – another note. On one side of it was the riddle and on the other was a black and white sketch of a rose, with red dye on the petals. Whoever this was was . . . mad. Simply mad.

"Found it!" Harry said, being hushed by Madam Pince. He climbed back from the ladder and Ron went up beside him, looking over his shoulder.

_Hush my little beauty,_

_Don't say a word,_

_Soon enough_

_I will be heard._

_For another riddle_

_That'll you will find_

_In a foreign land,_

_Be sweet wined._

"I don't get it," Ron muttered. Again, the librarian hushed them and shooed them out. The two boys walked the halls.

"Foreign land . . . Let's think like Hermione. It probably means that whoever is sending this is going on the trip with us."

"Is it your lover, Harry? She's going on the trip with us?" Seamus and Dean came jogging up, after overhearing a bit of the conversation. "What's the love note say?"

"Shut up, Seamus. Do you know anything about Durmstrang?"

"Yeah. Like, a lot of the chicks are butch, so we're outta luck in that department." He said. "And I know that they like to drink. Like, not get drunk, but they have a special table that's for like wine and whiskey and stuff. Kind of like a buffet thing, though, except it's all wine and cheese stuff." He paused and explained, "I have a Scandinavian cousin."

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

Harry knew where the next riddle would be found. And now, more than ever, he wanted to go to Durmstrang.


	6. The Durmstrang Arrival

All right. I'm really pleased with this following chapter, and I believe it is the longest so far. Sorry about the cut off, or otherwise this chapter would have been possibly double the size.

I enjoy the reviews, so please keep them coming.

**caz-jket** – There is no mention in the books that Durmstrang is boys only. In fact, I think that there are girls there, because I can picture the Bulgarian women. They only do not allow muggle-borns (although Hermione changed that.) The movie has portrayed several things incorrectly, but that is because it is a movie. But thanks for this review. i lurv u. 3

Chapter Sixth – The Durmstrang Arrival

A month later and it was October First. There had been one Hogsmeade stop, where Hermione insisted that they get some warmer clothes; apparently it was very, very, _very_ cold up North.

Krum had sent them a letter back and even Ron could agree that it was helpful. There were four floors, not including the basement (which had an underground lake,) and the third floor was all dormitories, one side being for the girls and the other for the boys. And if you attempted to go into the other genders' dormitory, you got shocked.

Apparently, wine was very popular. On special occasions, when the fires were lit, wine tables appeared, along with plates holding a different assortment of cheeses and crackers. The drinking age, much to Ron's approval, was much lower, around ten or so.

There were four Quidditch teams at the school, with the professors assigning players to any team. To allow the Hogwarts students a fair chance, decision making was to be held off until they got there.

The night before the one hundred students left (some of them including Ginny, Seamus, Dean, and even Luna) there was a big feast. Hermione insisted that they leave the festivities a little early and start packing; otherwise they would be rushing around to do it in the morning.

In the morning, they had received their robes back. They were now a dark red, with an 'H' as a patch and their names printed beneath. They're hats were also different: Instead of black and pointed, they were now red beanies. The four boys in their dormitory were loud that night and didn't get any sleep. Neville threw a fit about it.

Neville wasn't going because his grandmother didn't want to. Seamus suspected that Neville got seasick and couldn't handle the seas. Neville proceeded to toss a pillow at him and go back under the covers. "I'll be glad when you're gone," He had muttered.

The breakfast had been short; only crumpets and butter. The atmosphere was rather quiet; friends and family where leaving.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna walked outside together. Up ahead, they could see the tip of the Black Lake and nothing more. The five wondered what the ship would be like (Krum informed them that that was how they traveled,) and wondered how long it would take them to get there.

As they began to walk along the main deck, they noticed the crowd being pushed back a bit by Professor Mcgonagall. Several minutes later, as they neared, the top mast of the Durmstrang ship began to rise. Quickly.

There were many 'Oohs' and 'Ahhs' from the crowd. First the top beam and mast showed, follow by another one. . Then the top of the ship, a deck, another deck, and then the belly of the ship. The entire thing was sealed shut; no windows or doors were open, of course, until it reached full height (at least 100 feet, Harry approximated) and a large draw bridge opened.

The ship hoisted two main masts, each white with a brown 'D' attractively sewn in on them. The wood was dark brown, with red and black details and architecture on it. Imperial horses, serpents, and dragons were placed strategically on the sides of the ship and the railing was noticeably carved, even from Harry's standpoint.

Almost as soon as the draw bridge was level with the deck, troops of Durmstrang students marched out. In an eye-catching pattern, the group crisscrossed and split into two red lines, dancing in a small jig and spinning long walking sticks around, throwing them around and over to other students of their school. They wore their red robes with golden brown sashes, adorning their heads were the red beanies. After a moment, they were done with their entrance (although the ship itself was grand enough,) and separated, some standing on one side of the deck and the rest taking the other side. They face each other and raised their staffs, crossing them high above their heads.

A large man with a thick red beard and hair came out; wearing thick furs and carrying a jewel encrusted cane came rumbling out. The professors approached and awaited him. The two headmasters (he assumed the man was Bjorn Thwaite) shook hands and exchanged a few words, then Professor Thwaite bowed before the deputy Headmistress, Professor Mcgonagall and kissed her hand. She and some of the girls that would board the ship all blushed.

The man turned to Professor Sombra and took her hand, guiding her onto the ship. Severus apparently hung back, waiting for the rest of the students to board.

The group waited for their turn, and Harry felt very small walking under the ark of wood formed by the Durmstrang guys. Walking onto the ship, he nearly stopped in his movement. The ceiling was raised high; not Great Hall high, but high enough. There were students milling around, and some awaiting the others' arrival. A troop of some of the larger men went by; all wearing thick robes and gloves. Harry overheard Hermione whispering to Ginny, "They must be the crew."

Most of the floor consisted of stair ways going this way and that. The rest of the . . . deck consisted of ropes and levels, none of which he really understood. A girl with thick, curly blonde hair came over to them.

"Pleez come vollow me. Steek close. You," She paused, motioning two a few others, "Jhoin us."

With the five came along two fifth years from Hufflepuffs; with names he didn't know. Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson came along with them, much to Ron, Harry's, and apparently Malfoy, (due to Pansy clinging to him.) The large girl climbed one set of stairs, with the large group trailing behind.

"The treep vill be a good seeven ow-ers. If you weesh to rest, the staircase to your leeft will leed you to bedrooms. Girls on leeft, boys on raght. Same ghos vit deh school. Your luggage ees in the cargo hol' bee-low deh eentrance rahmp. That ees the bathrooms.

"You veel be served deener here in the dining hall, neer seex o chlock." She said, passing a long room. A door was cracked open a bit and there they could see several tables and chairs. "Al-coh-hal weel be zerved, but pleez drink lie-oitly. "Ear we have a stoodying chamber, eef you weesh to get caught up on work. Ours ees much like Hogwarrts."

"An' ear ees the lounguh. Eef anyone ees dueling, be wise and dun stan' in they-are way. Good day."

"An' ear ees the lounguh," Draco snickered as she walked away. He shook Pansy off. "I'm going to rest."

"Ooh, can I rest with you?" She fluttered her eyelashes. Harry wanted to gag. Apparently, so did Draco.

Draco looked at her seriously. "Girls on leeft, boys on raght." He turned away from her and headed for the dormitories. As he closed the door, Harry watched as Pansy glanced around, and then followed him. She grabbed the doorknob and was then thrown back by a magical force. Everyone who witnessed it was laughing. Pansy grumbled and got up, then marched off.

"The wine table," Harry whispered to Ron as they walked, "It'll be on the wine table."

"Won't that be a little obvious?" Ron asked. He did have a point, there wasn't going to be a note just randomly lying there.

"Yeah . . . I guess you're right. I'm sure it's that wine table though."

"What? Is it your writer? Harry! I thought you were going to do them by yourself!" Hermione frowned, turning to them. Ginny and Luna continued walking on, Ginny going to hit on some Bulgarian guy with Luna as her companion.

"I am . . . Ron's just helping a little," Harry shrugged.

"Yeah. S'not like I really understood any of them, anyway." Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"And how many of them did you read!"

"Just like one or two." Ron shrugged. "Geez, it's just a note."

"They're romantic notes! Someone has a real thing for Harry and you treat it like a joke. Boys! Honestly." She sighed and stormed off.

"Where are you going?"

"To study. Some of us need to get ready for a different curriculum."

So, Harry and Ron were left on their own. For awhile, they walked around, just to get used to the place. They talked about Quidditch. They talked about food. They talked about Harry's fan. And when they looked at the clock again, only twenty minutes had gone by.

And yet, they got through the six hours. After draining themselves out of talking to each other, they floated around for a bit. They met a cool guy from Durmstrang named Ingo Kronhk, though. He was really pretty cool and was the captain of the First Team out of the four Quidditch teams. He informed Harry that they were a chaser and seeker close, and that there were no 'light, windy' guys on the team.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione met back up awhile later. Hermione was frantic about how

much of the curriculum was different and insisted that once they got there, they at least look at their new books. Ron whispered to Harry that he would look at the book. Not that he would open it or anything.

A few Durmstrang students beckoned them into the dining hall. In contrast to Hogwart's long tables, filling the room were tables and chairs of all different sizes. Some were round and small, only large enough for two people, and others were long and narrow and could fit twenty. The three friends sat down at a round table and Ginny and Luna pulled up some chairs next to them when they came in.

As soon as the last person sat down, the adults entered. First Professors Thwaite and Sombra, followed by Professor Dumbledore (only for a short visit, apparently,) and Snape. They took seats at a grand table. Following them were men in white and black robes, resembling fancy restaurant waiters. Harry thought that they were for the adults, but soon realized that the men were going to tables with students. A man came up to their table and took orders from them. There was so much to choose from.

"Uh . . . where is the wine?" Harry asked. Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

"It vill be coming up shortly. Pleez be patient." The man bowed as he left them, and then moved on.

"You don't drink, Harry!" Hermione whispered to him sharply. He shook her head as Professor Thwaite stood up.

"I velcome you, Hogwart students, to Durmstrang. You vill be zurprised as to how semilar the castle ees to the ship. One of our students' vill be villing to escort you around vor a short tour and then eet will be time for rest. On Mondays, classes beegin at eight o 'chlock sharp weeth breakfast at seeven-thirty." Harry was inwardly groaning. "I understand that classes are a beet deefferent at Hogwarts, zo homework veel not be expected of you for one week." Hermione frowned at this.

"You vill be served your food shortly. Here ees a vine table with fine vines dating back to thee earleh hundreds. Pleez drink re-spoon-sib-ily. Thank you." He snapped his fingers and delicate bottles and plates appeared on a cloth-covered table. Harry and Ron looked at each other.

"We'll be right back."

The two got up and made their way towards the table, with a small line forming around it. Harry saw Ron reach for a bottle. "You're not really going to drink that, are you?" Ron didn't respond, but grinned, and poured wine to the tip of a shot glass. Harry rolled his eyes and took some cheese and crackers onto a plate. As he made his way around it, he neared an area of the table covered solely with bottles of wine. "Oops."

Harry "accidentally" dropped his fork under the table and had to kneel in order to get it. He blindly searched for it with his eyes scanning the underbelly of the table. Almost directly to the right of his vision he saw a note and a rose taped to the top. He peeled them off and stuffed them into his breast pocket, then attempted to rise. With a sharp clunk he swore, quite loudly, and felt a kick in his ankle from Ron.

Climbing back up, he made eye contact with Ron and they took their plates (and Ron's shot glass) back to the table. Hermione glared at them, mainly Ron.

"Ron! You're not really going to do it, are you? Alcohol is bad for you. You could get addicted." Ron ignored her and drank the shot straight – bad idea. Before Harry could take the note back out, his friend was red in the face and spluttering. Ginny whapped her hand against his back to help him catch his breath. Durmstrang students around them threw their heads back and laughed, with a particular group of large boys taking shots all at once as if to prove some point.

"Well?" Ron asked once he got his breath. "What does it say?" Hermione made a loud, distractive cough.

_As you rise in the sweet morn'_

_Before the glow of day is torn,_

_You will find a riddle like this,_

_Whilst I await our meeting bliss._

"Ooh. I think you're getting close, Harry." Ron said, slapping him on the shoulder. And then he dug into his food. Harry sat there for a moment, looking at his note and rose, and did something he hadn't thought of before: He sniffed it. A voice, a whisper filled his head.

_Harry . . . soon enough we will meet. I hope that you have gotten to know me well enough through the roses and the notes to understand why I wish to meet you. The final riddle will be this next one and I am very excited, yet nervous, to meet you. My only fear is that you will turn away from me._

Harry blinked and looked around. No one else seemed to notice any difference, as they were all eating. He sniffed the rose again, a sweet, gentle smell, and the voice played again, still in that soft whisper. Did all the roses have little spiels? Once everything was unpacked, he would take them out (Hermione insisted that he take the roses and wrap them in something nice.)

But now, the food was there. His plate was quite large, with chicken and beef filling up one entire side, and a mound of potatoes in the corner.

"So, Harry, did you meet anyone interesting?" Hermione asked as she cut up her turkey. "When I was at the library, a nice guy from Durmstrang helped me get a book from the top shelf. I didn't catch his name though."

"We met some guy named . . . Ingo? He's the captain of one of their Quidditch teams."

"Ooh. His last name is Kronhk, right?" Ginny piped in. "Luna and I ran into him, too. Sandy blonde hair? Yeah. Pretty cute, too."

"He's like, seventeen, Ginny." Ron eyed her, carefully. "If he lays one hand on you, I'll-"

"Relax, Ron. I don't even know him."

"Right, you don't. He's too old for-"

"RON!" The red head snapped. He shut up.

The group joked around and ate, and then was informed that they had to get ready to leave by Professor Thwaite. Professor Dumbledore gave a few basic words, be good, send an owl if you needed him, and so on, and then with a small 'pop,' he was gone.

The entirety of the ship was gestured to rise. Several Durmstrang students led the way out of the dining hall, easily noticeable. Each of the three had to be at least seven feet tall, it seemed. It was as if they were giants! Harry was surprised he hadn't noticed them before.

The students followed the three leaders down the sets of stairs and floors, until they were back in the belly of the ship. It looked different now; there was more space and fewer staircases. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna were some of the first students, so they were pushed up front near the exit. As the students piled in, they were forced together and a bit squished. Professor Thwaite stood on the staircase, up a few steps, and called out to all of them.

"Please stand toihtly together! Rising from thee wat-er has proven to bee a little rhocky, here, so be prepared for a rough ride." Some of the larger students placed their hands on people and changed the positions of their legs. It appeared serious, so the group of five huddled close together.

"Pansy, lay off. You'll be fine." They heard a voice snap; Draco Malfoy's. He was attempting to peel Pansy off his arm.

"But Drakey . . . You don't want me to get hurt, do you?" Pansy pouted. Draco turned his head and rolled his eyes, spotting Harry watching him. His face was truly expressionless, and for a moment, the two looked at each other. Draco sneered and Harry glared. He was about to say something when there was a jolt, followed by several shrieks of surprise.

"I'm not feeling so go-AH!" Ron bellowed as there was another jolt. Hermione grabbed onto Harry and Ron's arms as she tripped, to steady herself. The ship was rocking loudly now and there was desperate whispering amongst the students.

"Get ready!" Thwaite bellowed. "The worst ees abou-" But even he didn't have time to finish as a rough bump sent students flying to the floor, even some of the Durmstrang students. Harry hit the floor with Pansy parked on top of him. She growled angrily and shoved him hard as she climbed off, causing him to bump into Ginny who was also on the floor. Ginny looked quite distressed and scared.

He rose and pulled her up with him, and gave her a hug. Her eyes were wide and her hair was a bit messy. Ron rubbed her shoulder sympathetically.

"He said it's over now, shh. It's okay."

"I'd rather be kicked by hippogriff," She muttered.

The rocking stopped and the students' murmurs died down. After several minutes, when all was still, there was a slight knock on the side of the wood – they had hit the dock.

Ingo, as well as several other Durmstrang students, went to large wheels on either side of the draw bridge and began turning, slowly. It took about three of the men on each side to turn down the bridge, and as it opened from the top, they noticed a waterfall coming down from the sides of the ship. It did soon stop, however, and the Hogwarts students were encouraged to get off.

Happy to be back on land, half way through walking off the drawbridge ramp, Ron broke into a run. But what he saw up ahead made him tumble over and fall onto the grass.

And it wasn't because of the castle.


	7. The Final Poem

Yeah. Sorry that this chapter took forever. I had a bit of writer's block. I thank my friend for helping me out a little bit in this chapter – Stephanie, or pplhater2493

Remember to review!

Chapter Seven – The Final Poem

There were many sharp gasps as the Hogwarts students stepped off the ship. The area now before them was nothing but mountains and trees; no castle in sight. But it wasn't that image that was breath taking; it was the birds taking up the scenery.

Eagle like in appearance, before them stood birds of at least ten feet in height. Their faces were pointed and angry, although it really was hard to distinct the eyes from the rest of their expressions; their entire face was black, as well as the rest of their body. Brown did appear in slits throughout their wings. The monsters were chained down from the neck, with iron chain bolted into the ground. A restless one cawed and stretched its wings with about fifteen feet in span, each. About twenty feet away from it was another one of these birds and behind each of them where about four more birds on their side.

"Eyries . . ." Hermione whispered.

"We-We're not going to get onto those things, are we?" Ron whimpered.

"Pleez vollow me." A Durmstrang student said, beckoning them to follow. Apparently, they were.

Attached to the back of these Eyries were several rows of seats. The troop had to climb up the Eyrie's wing (whom actually appeared to be quite calm and almost docile,) and they had to climb through the seats and sit (Hermione needed a little boost up.) The group of five, as well as a few others and two of the Durmstrang students got on.

"Pleez strap you eento the seat. Do not touch thee bird."

Harry looked to the side and saw a thick piece of rope tied to the edge of his seat. He crossed it over his lap and handed it to Ginny, who buckled it onto her side. For several minutes, the group sat there and watched the other students climb onto the birds. Looking over to the bird on the other side of them, Harry saw Justin Finch-Fletchley wave to them, cheerfully. Harry waved back, weakly.

Once everyone was on the birds, another, much larger Eyrie swooped down as people were 'boarding' and landed in the front and center of them all. Professors Sombra and Snape got onto the bird followed by the rest of the Durmstrang students. Professor Thwaite magnified his voice with his wand as he stood to the side of the beast.

"Een a few moments, these Eyries vill escort us to the Durmstrang castle. Pleez hold on toihtly and do not touch thee birds." With that, he quieted himself and climbed onto the bird. He noticed that this Eyrie had to be the head one – adorned it not only was a more magificant seating, but the bird even looked more broad, more grand. It began to caw loudly, looking back and forth, flapping its wings. One at a time each of the Eyries cawed back in response

In a second, they were in the air. The ride was not as rough as a hippogriff's or thresals, and yet no where near as smooth as Harry's firebolt. The birds formed a 'V' shape, and as Harry recalled from muggle school, that had something to do with aerodynamics. They lifted high above the trees and he realized that, like the Eyries, he was watching this head one. They seemed to reflect and echo its every movement.

He took his eyes away from the (beautiful) landscape to look around at his fellow passengers. Ginny had her eyes shut tightly and was whispering "I hate heights, I hate heights, I hate heights, I hate heights, I . . ."

Harry was about to say something when everyone took a sharp dip. As they drew up again, he and others gasped "Look!" Below them was the Quidditch pitch, which wasn't really that interesting, although the dome was actually enclosed with a clear glow around the top. It was probably charmed, he guessed, so they could have games in the worse snow. Then again, he couldn't really see anything in the dark.

On another swoop or so, the castle came into view. It was not as impressive as the Hogwarts' castle and looked rather dark and small. However, the architecture imbedded and pressed against the walls or on top of them was very elegant. Like the ship, there were statues and sculptures of dragons and horses, as well as birds and other large creatures.

One at a time, the Eyries began to sail down in front of the castle, again, starting with this head one. Harry grabbed the side of his seat and Ginny grabbed his other arm. His ear was beginning to pound, not only from the wind, but from her screaming. It seemed as if the Eyrie was heading straight down, going straight for the ground. It neared the earth and suddenly pulled straight up (giving Harry some fond memories,) slowing down into a run on the ground (almost like a plane,) before it stopped.

And once every bird was stopped, once everything was calmed down, did everyone become animated again. The Durmstrang students in the back were the first two take off their restraints and begin helping the Hogwarts students get off. Hermione shoved her head in between Harry and Ginny's shoulders.

"Are you two all right? Ginny, are you okay?"

"Ginny, you were a seeker. How can you be afraid of heights?" Harry asked as the redhead pulled off her rope.

"I can handle being fifty feet in the air. This. This was _not_ fifty feet in the air." She snapped as the color was restored to her face.

"Here, Gin, have some chocolate." Hermione said, pulling out a chocolate frog from her pocket. She and Ron were the next ones to climb out, followed by Harry who helped Ginny down.

As soon as they were all off, their Eyrie disappeared. It was there and then it was not, all in one second. Harry turned and watched as each bird disappeared in the same process. The 'main' Eyrie, however, did not disappear. Professor Thwaite said something to it and moved back a few paces. The seats that had been strapped to the Eyrie's back disappeared, just as the other Eyries disappeared: In a split second. The bird began to stretch its wings and flapped them a bit, before kicking off the ground and soaring overhead of the students.

Now away from the bird's warmth, Harry was beginning to feel a little chilly. Those sweaters he bought would really come in handy, he thought. He noticed that the Durmstrang students were prepared: Hats, scarves, and gloves. They began to motion him and the others to head for the entrance of the castle.

It was nothing like Hogwarts. The only source of light was a heavy, gothic chandelier. It lit up the fair sized entrance hall, but only minimally. It was probably half the size of Hogwart's Entrance Hall, although it did have a very large, wide staircase.

"Thees ees Durmstrang. The door to your roight gives you the roight wing; weech includes thee dining hall, the Infirmary, and lib-rawr-y. The door to your leeft gives you the leeft wing, with the Lake entrance and Potions classroom. The lake entrance ees also where Care off Magical Creatures ees. All thee other classrooms have signs. Now pleez vollow me."

The second and fourth floors were nothing but classrooms. When they came back down to the third floor (students had taken them through a central staircase, which passed the third floor entirely. Apparently, the third floor had two staircases), they were shown where the dormitories and bathrooms were.

"Ooh. I hear that out tubs are huge!" Ginny squealed. And with that, Harry and Ron said goodbye to their three female friends and followed the other boys into their dormitory.

There were five doors along a long, paneled wall. The first section held years one and two (that is what they called first and second years,) the second held years three and four, and so on. The year sevens did not share with anyone but each other, and the final doorway was for the Hogwarts students.

The beds were all bunk beds and there was about twenty or so of each. Ron and Harry took one of the first ones (Harry let Ron take the top bunk,) and the beds quickly filled in. They were informed that once everyone had claimed a bed, their trunks and wardrobes would appear. With several quick 'pops,' trunks and luggage appeared on the sides of the bunkers, and dressers were randomly scattered about.

Ron seemed to have a lot of fun with being on top. He talked to people at the same level as him, and when he wished to talk to Harry, he would lean over the side of his bed and look at Harry upside down, with his hair dangling around. Harry had the terrible urge to knock him down.

That night was a bit awkward. Harry, Ron, and several others tried to stay up and talk, but some of the other Hogwarts students screamed at them to shut up and go to sleep. After awhile, the lights were forced to go out and people settled down. For awhile, Harry lay in bed and tried to sleep, but kept thinking that he had to do something. And then he remembered the roses.

When Harry was sure that everyone was asleep, he leaned over the foot of his bed and unclasped his trunk (he'd put his clothes away the next day,) and dug through a bit. Finding the roses wrapped in a cloth, with the small pile of notes on top of them, Harry pulled them all out and attempted to put each rose in order. It was impossible, although he did know the order of the notes. He took the one with the rose drawn on the other side of it and stared for a minute, then sniffed it. Nothing happened, except the humility Harry felt.

Did it matter what the order was? He began to sniff one rose at a time. It would probably make enough sense, even out of order.

_Well, I spotted your name on the list; mine was already on there. I have confidence that you and I will both succeed in the new school, and I hope that some of the personalities and ways of the kids there will change some of your misguided opinions. When you meet me, I ask that you take some time to think about that situation, before you make any rash decisions._

Harry paused, and sniffed the rose again, to listen to the whisper one more time. That probably corresponded to the riddle he received before going to Durmstrang. He picked up the next one.

_Harry Potter. I hope my riddles charm you, as I have been unable to do so through our previous years. This poem reflects so much of me, and not just my thoughts on you. One day you will understand what I mean when I say that I am sorry, right now. I am sorry, Harry. I'm very, very sorry. I trust that you look forward to your next riddle._

Harry read his very first riddle . . . it was quite like a poem. He took the last one:

_You are wondering who I am, I am sure. We have much in common, although we do have differences. I watch you, Harry; I watch your movements and actions. You are not the swank type of person I first thought you to be. And for that error on my part, I apologize._

Well. That was the last of them. He still knew nothing about his admirer, not even the gender (although he hoped it was a girl!) Harry tucked the roses and notes back into his trunk and lied back, but felt rather restless. When would the writer present herself? Would he like her? But what if he didn't?

I should give her a chance, he decided. Whoever it was was very dedicated about this matter. But who did he know that was sorry for anything? A list of girls went through his head; none that he could even think would proclaim something like that.

"Harry . . . Harry, wake up. Wake up n-OW!" As Harry opened his eyes, all he had seen in front of him was flaming red hair. Needless to say, he was a bit shocked and sent his fists flying. Ron wailed, "What was that for?"

"For nearly straddling me and waking me up, you git. Bugger off." Harry shoved Ron away and glared as his best friend stood back with a sickening grin.

"Thwaite wants us all down at the dining hall in about ten minutes. Ya' know, some sorta speech or something," Ron said as Harry slipped on his glasses. "What are you looking at?"

"I'm looking at the new riddle. How in bloody blazes did it get here?" He questioned, pulling off the rose and note from the ceiling of the bottom bunker. He would 'listen' to the rose once Ron stopped hovering over him.

"Well, mate, what's it say?" Harry read it out loud.

_Might I say that  
I am amazed. Do you  
Dare to play the final game?  
Now is the chance that  
I may be revealed  
Giving you the answer you  
Have been searching for.  
Time will only tell._

"Um . . . yeah. Wait, there's something on the back!" Ron said, grabbing it and turning the card over.

_Fourth, third, study.._

"Oh, gee. That helps," Ron muttered sarcastically and let the card fall. It floated into Harry's lap with the three words facing up. Fourth, study, third. He would need Hermione's help on that. All the brain power possible. Fourth, study, third.

"C'mon, get ready. I'll show this thing to Hermione," Ron said, grabbing the card from Harry's hand once more. He grinned and scampered off, so Harry took to the rose.

_Harry. I understand that my little phrase is a little odd. Simply think about the numbers and word: They sum up the location for where I wish to meet you. Please come alone, I do not wish to have any disturbances. If you have some trouble, read the last lines of the very first riddle I gave you._

Harry groaned and read over all the new material he had, including the very first riddle (he had to do a little digging through his trunk to find it,) and the last little piece:

_Read into the words, before the lines,  
You have now been given one of the many signs._

Nothing made sense.

"Oh, really. You would have known this if you read Victor's entire letter. On the fourth floor is one of the larger study hall rooms. People here use it as the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts. Like the make out room. Harry, you're not rea . . ." That was what Hermione had said during breakfast. She had been willing to help him with this last riddle since it was the last. Like the first riddle, as well, he had had to read the first letter of each line to spell out M I D N I G H T.

That would explain why Harry was climbing the stairs in the middle of that night. Even though the staff was not strict on curfew, Harry felt more secure in his invisibility cloak.

He almost got lost in the dark; wandering around very carefully to be sure he didn't miss any doors. The school had been a lot bigger than he originally thought it was, with many doorways that lead to rooms that lead to other rooms. Above a particular door held a steel sign. 'Study Hall.'

Taking off his cloak and putting it into his bag, he took a breath and opened the door. Against the doorknob, Harry could tell that his palm was very sweaty.

Malfoy?

Harry stared in the open doorway. Cabinets and tables were scattered about, and it all looked lonely with only one occupant. Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. He had raised his head and smirked, daintily.

"Why, hello there."

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Harry snapped.

"Oh, I'm doing a lot of things, if you think about it. Sitting, breathing, staring at you, talking. And yourself?"

"Get out. I'm waiting for someone and I'd rather it be private." Harry snapped and glanced at the clock. Four minutes till midnight. What would happen when the girl got there? This was going to be very awkward.

"Oh, you'll have your privacy all you want, no need to worry." The blonde returned to his writing, two books lay open on either side of him. He also looked at the clock and closed one of the books, placing it back on the table. Harry thought he was leaving, but Malfoy merely kept writing.

"Malfoy, _please_. She'll be coming any minute." Draco set his quill down and looked at Harry.

"I'm not a she."


	8. What do you have to lose?

BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA slap Okay, I'm good.

The story is going along nicely. Sorry about the delay, my life is just a wee bit unstable right now.

I love reviews and if you have Gaia online, I love gold, too. D My username on there is CleoSombra

In reply to some of your reviews:

**Anon** – A casualty is usually not a death, but a person who has been wounded in battle.

**caz-jket** – Bjorn Thwaite is a fun name to say, dont'cha think?

**Wilbo Baggins** – I believe that I am in love with you. You are a great reviewer and a very nice person. So I am dedicating this chapter to you!

Chapter Eight – What do you have to lose?

"Uh . . ." Harry stared. "Shut up, Malfoy. You don't know what you're talking about." He tensed up as Malfoy stood up and pulled out his wand. The door shut.

"Of luminous glow your skin shines at night, wandering fingers on your body – delight. Like Adonis you bring the highest passion, earn you in my secret fashion. read into the words, before the lines, you have now been given one of the many signs."

No.

No.

No.

This is wrong on so many levels.

"B-but y- I- wh- NO!" Harry shouted. "No. You're supposed to be a girl. A nice girl. Not a gay creep. What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? Do you really think I'm that stupid? How can you sink to this level? You sick freak." Harry attempted to punch Malfoy, but missed and backed away as the blonde's wand pointed at him.

"Listen, Pott-Harry. Just listen to me. Give me a chance to explain. Don't you remember the roses? I'm sorry! I changed. I'm sorry for the past five years."

"Oh. Just like you're sorry for teasing me? Just like you're sorry for making fun of Hermione? And embarrassing Ron last year? Just like you're sorry for being a complete git since the day I met you! Go to hell, Malfoy. Open this fucking door NOW." Harry said, tugging on the knob.

"No. You need to listen to me." Malfoy said firmly, lowering his wand.

"Fuck that. I took my time trying to figure out those stupid riddles and-"

"Like how I took my time writing those riddles and poems and notes? Like how I took my time running around to put those poems in their places? Like how I waited for you to get them? Do you really think I would take so much time and energy if I didn't- If I didn't like you?" Harry attempted to respond, "During our first year, I hated you. I hated you more than anyone in school. Until I realized you weren't the pompous golden boy I thought you were. Until I saw how friendly you were to people. Until I realized that my father wasn't perfect. Until I realized you weren't perfect. Up until our third year here, I stopped hating you and I was just jealous. But tell me, how can two three-year enemies just stop like that? What would you have said if I suddenly became some friendly little goody-two shoes?

"I'm not like that. I can't and I won't be like that. I finally got the balls enough to tell you all this. Haven't I been nicer? I'm trying to make up for what I did. I really am. In the roses I asked you to think about it. Think about all of this. I-"

"You're father is-"

"Was."

"Was Voldemort's favorite little toy. How idiotic do you think I am? I know you and all your little cronies would prefer my head on a plaque."

"I'm NOT my father. You're not your father, either, Harry."

"Don't call me Harry!"

"That's your name, isn't it? And my name's Draco," The blonde countered.

"I- you- think- no. I'm not like Parkinson, Malfoy. You spoiled git. I hate you. One little sorry and a few flowers? Who the fuck do you think I am? I hate you."

"I'm not asking you to like me. I'm asking you to forgive me and give me a chance. Meet me here at eleven, tomorrow." Malfoy flicked his wand and disappeared with a short 'pop.'

Harry stood there for a good minute, his eyes shut. He now had a terrible headache, most likely from every possible thought that was trailing through his mind. I can't go back there right now, not back to bed. He'll be there.

Sitting down where Malfoy had previously sat, Harry put his arms on the table and cradled his head in them. Okay, let's take this slowly. One thought at a time. Keep it simple, stupid.

Draco Malfoy of Slytherin, an enemy of six years confessed a fancy for me, Harry Potter, of Gryffindor. We are enemies who have fought for six years and have always hated each other. Draco Malfoy of Slytherin admits otherwise. The possibilities:

He's in a ploy with Voldemort, he wants to embarrass me in front of Durmstrang, he wants to hurt me, or he actually likes me.

Harry really couldn't think of any way Malfoy could embarrass _him_ by saying that _he_ was gay. That really did knock down the two possibilities. And if there was any scheme with Voldemort, it wouldn't be that obvious. But he couldn't like Harry. That was just wrong.

They were enemies from different worlds: The good and the bad. Malfoy was an evil ass and Harry was not. They hated each other for six years. And to top it all off, they were both guys. They were in the same dormitory. The same showers. And what if there were other gays there? The thought was revolting.

"There is nothing wrong with boys liking boys, Harry," He could almost picture Hermione lecturing to him, "It's just a preference. It's perfectly normal." Was it? Was it normal? When he was younger, he heard the Dursleys complain of 'fags' in the neighborhood. The Jones had eventually moved out, his aunt had said. Usually, whatever the Dursleys hated wasn't really that bad. But he wasn't gay. So what the hell did Malfoy see in him?

Whatever it was, he didn't want to know.

Who did Malfoy think he was, anyway? All of a sudden he's nice and dandy, so he and Harry could become friends? Not a chance. Not a fat chance. After everything he'd done to Hermione and Ron-

He couldn't tell them. He wouldn't tell them.

"Ew. I always knew that git liked other blokes," Ron would say, freckles and all. Hermione would scold him.

"Ronald," She would say, "There's nothing wrong with that. Maybe he just didn't know how to share his feelings. I've read lots of books on . . . ."

Harry glanced at the clock. It was almost one. He really would have to get back to bed. He knew very well he wouldn't be sleeping well that night. And what if Malfoy was there, watching him?

The next morning was a very tiring morning. As far as Harry knew, Malfoy had not been in the dormitory when he got back. Even so, it had taken him several hours to relax and get to sleep. And it felt as if he was only asleep for a few seconds before the day was starting.

"So, Harry, what's she like? Who is she? Is she pretty?" Ron asked over a bowl of oatmeal. Hermione rolled her eyes and nibbled on some toast.

"I told you, Ron, I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, come on. Hermione doesn't care. No one's listening. Come on, Harry, I'm your best mate!"

"I was stood up," Harry lied. "She wasn't there."

"What? You think it was just a joke? Maybe you were supposed to meet at another place. Or-"

"No, I think I was just stood up. So, what's our first class, Hermione?" Harry asked, changing the subject. For a moment, she stared at him before picking up their schedule.

"We have Defense against the Dark Arts first, then Potions. They don't sort us by our olds houses anymore. There's Slytherins and Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in here, plus some of the Durmstrang students."

"Oh, man. A galleon says Malfoy's in there, with us." Ron said, slapping his forehead. Harry felt like doing the same, but silently poked at his oatmeal, hardly tasting the apples in it. His mouth felt awfully dry and full of bad taste.

"No, but he is in Potions with us. I asked Professor Sombra this morning if we were having the dueling club again. She said no," Hermione frowned. "I was looking forward to the first meeting. I think she was, too. She . . ."

As Harry tuned Hermione out and ate, he looked around the dining hall and spotted his blonde fan sitting at some wide table. On one side of him was Parkinson, clinging to his arm, and on the other was Blaise Zabini. Surrounding their table was also Crabbe and Goyle, as well as some Durmstrang girls. He seemed to be joking around and having a swell time. Harry wondered what he was he thinking at that moment. Was he upset? Did he forget about it? Did he care less?

"Harry! Harry, look at me." Hermione slapped him on the arm. He looked back; Ron was gone and Hermione was slightly frazzled. "Something's wrong, Harry. What is it?"

"Where's Ron?"

"I told him to get me a book from the library. Please, Harry," She scooted closer. "Tell me what's wrong. You know you can trust me." Harry sighed.

"It was Malfoy."

"What was Malfoy?"

"My admirer. It was Malfoy. I saw him last night." Hermione's jaw slacked.

"Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? Are you sure he's not up to something, Harry? What did you say?" Hermione whispered, "What are you going to do?"

"I got pissed at him and he left. Told me to meet him tonight. I guess I'll just ignore it. He'll get the message. I think."

"No, don't do that. Maybe it's time that we stopped fighting between houses. It'd be good for Hogwarts. You should really give him a chance."

"Hermione! How could you say something like that? After everything he's done to you! After everything he's done to all of us!" Harry snapped, "Six years of insults and remarks. Six years of fighting. Six years-"

"You have to admit, we did fight back," She pointed out. "But that's not the point. Harry, I really think you should give it a chance-"

"I'm not gay!"

"You don't have to be! Just . . . go tonight. Talk to him. Try to be nice. Listen to whatever he has to say. You don't have to date him. You don't have to like him. But give him a chance. If you be careful, then what do you have to lose?"  
"My pride . . . My . . ."

"Now you're sounding like Ron, Harry. You could make a new friend. You have nothing to lose! If you won't do it for yourself, do it for Hogwarts. Gryffindor looks up to you and Slytherin looks up to Malfoy. If you two start setting a good example when we get back, then maybe things will be different.

"Don't you find it creepy that there is a gay in the dormitory? Does he watch us undress? It's so-"

"There are gays in our dormitory," Hermione said calmly. "No, they don't look at us. Homosexual people are just like you and I, Harry. They aren't any different. Maybe Malfoy watches you, but he probably doesn't. Neither of us knows what he's like, so we shouldn't go judging him or anyone else."

"We know what he's like, all right. A bastard."

"We also thought it was impossible for a Slytherin to like a Gryffindor. We're not always right, Harry."

"Well there's irony," Harry muttered dryly. "Ow!"

"You needn't be so rude!"

"Rude?" Harry snapped in his whisper, "Rude is when you laugh at people for the hell of it. Rude is when you tease someone because of their blood. Rude is when you fight with them for six years and then proclaim love to them. That's rude!"  
"What do you have to lose?"

"I'm not going to go into a detailed list of my rules, as I wish not to bore my old students," Professor Sombra was standing on top of a heavy wooden desk. Standing, not sitting. The room was filled with students, crammed together. Clearly, Durmstrang had yet to make room for its new students. That, however, was not the reason she walked on the desk as opposed to the floor.

"One. No distractions. No name calling, no nothing. Spell casting, especially when handling risky spells and jinxes can be very dangerous. The second someone gives hurt or falls into the chances of getting hurt because of you, I will personally punish you myself. _The old fashioned way_."

Okay. Maybe that wasn't true. Their professor never hit anyone, although one student (some Slytherin) was banished from another class because of setting off a prank. Harry was in charms at the time and heard a lot of colorful language from two rooms down.

"Secondly, I will not hear of any insults, towards anyone, about anyone, or anything. Discrimination is top on my list of hates; I'm sure you don't want your name up there, too. I treat people as they treat me and all others. If you find the need to make fun of someone's breed, I might accidentally point out a flaw in yours. Why? Because I can."

"Finally, I don't grade homework. I . . ."

Harry tuned her out, his eyes bouncing around the room. It was a lot darker than their old one and the only window provided little light. Three students sat each table (clearly a bit squished) and some of the larger, taller Durmstrang students looked quite comical. Ingo, the very deep rooted Bulgarian was sitting next to only other Durmstrang student and Cho Chang. Ingo was very friendly towards them and he and the trio exchanged words in passing. He waved to Harry cheerfully.

Harry ran a finger over the glazed wood on his desk. Scratched into it by random students were profane words and phrases, along with hearts and names. Notes and spells were also scribbled in, with a 'Crucio' dug in angrily. There were also other little designs, such as the muggle peace sign and the yin-yang. Quite humorously, Harry found the word 'DIIK' scribbled in. Sucking on the tip of his quill, he dried his left over ink onto a piece of scrap paper and began digging.

It took him the rest of the period, but finally he cared in 'H.J.P. was here!' It was a bit childish, but it looked cool. As the bell rang (which was a very loud 'dong,' actually,) the students rose and left for their next class.

"Oh, and Mr. Potter," His professor called, "Please don't write on the desks anymore."


	9. How do you know?

Haha! A new chapter. This one has mostly dialogue (talking) and only a little action detail. I'm going to admit that this wasn't my best chapter; I disliked having so many short little lines. But please, read and review.

Chapter Nine – How do you know?

I'm going to regret this, Harry told himself. And when I do, Hermione will hear about it. All of it.

This time, he didn't bring his invisibility cloak. He had a feeling that the chances of being caught were one in a thousand here; no one really seemed to care. And as he did climb the stairs, he saw two or three Durmstrang students mosey around in the halls. He wondered if any of them where in the study hall room. Really, Harry didn't know what to expect.

He wasn't even going to go until Hermione stared him down over dinner. Ron had asked her what she was on about when Harry said, "No. No. Fine." Her stubbornness wasn't finished even when Ron persistently bugged them both. She simply sat there with her eyebrows raised as she drank her coffee.

What was going to happen? What was he supposed to say? Maybe I should turn back now and go to the library for an hour. Mess up my hair a bit and unbutton my shirt. Maybe she'll be satisfied then. But knowing Hermione, that was only a maybe.

_He_ was sitting at the same table as before; no one else was in the room. Did Malfoy reserve that place or something? Could he reserve it for the nights and allow no one in, there by stopping Malfoy from coming here? Did Malfoy sit around in the study hall chambers all night back at Hogwarts, or was this a new thing?

"You came," Malfoy stated. Harry stared at him.

"Well you're sure Sherlock's son."

"What?" It occurred to him that Malfoy knew nothing of the muggle novel character.

"Never mind. What do you want?"

"I'd like for you to sit," Malfoy said softly, then rolled his eyes at Harry's expression. "No, no. Just take a seat somewhere. Oh, gee thanks." He muttered as the Gryf- er. . Harry took a seat two tables away.

"Yes?" He called.

"I don't have cooties," Malfoy pointed out flatly. But before Harry could reply with even some half witted remark (it took him a little time to think them up!) Malfoy began his speech, possibly planned.

"One hundred galleons said that Granger put you up to this, for the most part, anyway," He paused, and then threw in, "Yeah, you can't keep a secret, can you." It was rhetorical.

"Do you forgive me?"

"Do I what?" Harry pushed his glasses up a bit, rubbing his fingers over his scar – a nervous habit he was growing. He didn't want to like Malfoy; he enjoyed despising him. He wasn't about to fall for any sort of trap. Like "Moody" said, constant vigilance.

"I'm not going to like you," He pointed out. Malfoy retorted.

"How do you know?"

"Because – because – because you're mean," Harry mumbled weakly. Now did _that_ sound pathetic or what? "You've been an ass for the past six years. I think I know by now."

"But I apologized. Harry, do you forgive me?"

"No – No – Wa- Wait – No. Wait – I don't know," He concluded. "I don't know."

"Okay. How about this, every day you meet me here for an hour. Maybe after awhile, you'll forgive me for everything I've done to you. I'm not who I used to be, Harry." There was a very odd look on Draco's face. His eyes were intensely focused on Harry; it made him fidget in his seat. That look . . . it was so . . . it craved for an answer; approval.

"Why me?" Harry finally asked, "Why me?" The blonde scratched his nose and his eyes flickered around a bit. Good, Harry thought, good. Now you know what it feels like to be in an awkward position. And then Malfoy's posture changed.

"You say it was if it's a bad thing. By now, you know, I am very much attracted to men. I'm sure you have been told many times that you're . . . very, _very_ striking, and I for one agree," Harry flushed. No one really ever said that to him. "And then there's your personality. I just like you. You know that you can't help that, you know it. Almost as soon as I stopped hating you, I . . . liked you."

"But why did you hate me? You were the one who was rude fir-"

"Because at that time, I didn't think I was an ass. There are some things I regret, Harry. When you fought back, I summed you up to be the enemy. I knew we would be in the same year, I expected you to be some famous star when you waltzed in; with your nose so high you could drown. Then I got the message that you weren't the fool. It sounds cheesy, yeah. But it's probably the most honest thing I've said lately.

"I don't mean to blame my father on everything, but he is where I got all my opinions. Some I disagreed with, like you and the Dark Art, and some I agree with."

"Like . . .?" Harry asked. He knew the first one. "Mudbloods."

"Mudbloods and schooling."

"How can you be against the dark arts and muggle borns at the same time?" Harry countered and then threw in a big word, "That's like an oxymoron or something."

"They had meetings at the manor when I was _five_, Harry, five. I never liked their opinions on killing people. I still don't. But he and I both believe that mudbloods are just that – wizards and witches with muggle blood, dirty blood. They are less magical then we are."

"Oh?" Harry felt his anger starting, "So what am I? Half dirty? My mum was a-"

"You have pureblood in you."

"If I was a "mudblood," would you still like me?" Harry snapped.

"Yes. I don't care about your blo-"

"Then why should blood matter in the first place? Hermione is better at everything than purebloods and she's a muggle born! How is she any less magical?"

"The soul of magic, the core of it lies in blood. Give a muggle a wand and he can't cast a spell. Give him potion ingredients and he makes a mess. The magic is in us, Harry, it's in our blood! It runs through our veins."

"That doesn't make a muggle born and less of a person!"

"Yes. I know! That's why I don't like the dark arts!"

"Then why are you against them?"

"I just said why. They are not of the same magical status with us. They shouldn't study the same things as we do; they eventually will be unable to keep up. They may be smart, but not magically inclined!"

"So you are saying that they are less of a person!"

"Person, no. Magic, yes!"

"Then why do you hate all the muggle borns here?"

"Because they think they're special!" Malfoy snapped, "I'm so much better than everyone else. I'm unique and yade-da. They first come here and their suddenly the next door Mary-Jane!" Later on, Harry would wonder where Malfoy got that phrase from. "THEY'RE SOOOO MUCH BETTER BECAUSE THEY GOT IN ON SOMETHING OTHER THAN FAMILY BLOOD!"

"NOT EVERYONE'S LIKE THAT!"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW?"  
"HOW DO YOU KNOW THEY ARE?"  
"HOW DO YOU THEY AREN'T?"

"HOW DO – I – me – Ohh forget it, Malfoy." Harry sighed, sitting back down. He could feel his face was red from yelling. "You're just jealous of them."

"I am not."

"Yes, you are."

"Cauldron cake?" Malfoy asked. What? Was this some new twisted pet name Malfoy concocted? Forget the past dispute and go on to be lovey-dovey? Was he supposed to reply with "Yes, pumpkin?" or something of the like? Oh. A cauldron cake.

"A cauldron cake," He chucked one at Harry. "Eat one, they're not poisonous. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach," Malfoy paused as Harry spluttered and choked, "I was only kidding."

"A real sense of humor," Harry said dryly, then look down at his cauldron cake; only having taken a small bite out of it. That was enough. The last thing he needed was to be dosed up on some love potion. "Can I go now?"

"You say that like its detention." Harry shrugged.

"Well, in a sense."

"You can leave anytime you want."

"What? You locked the door the last time," But this time, Harry was the one who had fooled himself. He sat far away from this door; having had his only go on setting distance between himself and Malfoy. He solved a problem and created one.

"Last time, I was desperate. I needed you to listen to me. Now, you can do what you want. Stay, chat, snog, leave, wor-"

"What?" Harry blinked, "What did you just say?"

"You can stay, chat, leave, or do homework. I'd rather the first two options." Was that a little smirk tugging on Malfoy's mouth? Oh yeah, Harry thought. I heard what I heard.

"What are we supposed to do? Talk over tea?"

"You don't need to be sarcastic."

"Well _there's_ irony." Harry muttered. Malfoy looked away for a moment, as if thinking.

"Are you trying out for one of the teams this year?"

"Yeah, the first team."

"The third has a very nice team arrangement." Blondie-boy had his hands on his tables, making little circles in the wood with his fingers. He watched Harry with such focus and it was as if he were the only thing in the room. His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own; everything else was focused on Harry. It wasn't really a bad thing . . . just so . . . _weird_.

I should say something, he thought to himself. So . . . "The Chudley Cannons?"

"Their frontal chaser is weak. My opinion, half the team needs to get sacked. Especially the keeper." Harry disagreed.

"No. Walkers is pretty good for his age."

"I'm surprised he can even see the three hoops."

There is something about men and Quidditch. Harry felt it was a safe, non personal topic to talk about; at least he would kill some time. Or so he had thought. It went from different professional teams to their best moves, to the two owns' best moves. Harry learned how Malfoy had a passion for others' tactics and often had different opinions then that of the Slytherin team. And, being the Malfoy that he was, spoke of them with no doubt.

Upon ending their discussion on styles of brooms (with slightly suggestive comments thrown in, courtesy of Malfoy,) he saw that the clock had seemed to spin by thirty minutes. Not only was it amazing that he could talk about Quidditch for half an hour, but . . . Malfoy? Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.

Draco.

"Draco," Harry repeated blindly as he walked down the hall. Were anyone to have spotted him, they'd surely send him to St. Mungos. His expression was slightly glazed over; and who randomly spat out names while shuffling down the hall alone? It would have been quite a sight, if anyone saw.

But they didn't. They didn't see as Harry undressed and put his pajamas on, or curl into bed at 11:48 that night. They didn't see him stay up for another hour straight, staring at the ceiling of his bunk.

Waiting.

The next morning, Harry refused to go to breakfast before talking to Hermione in the hall. Ron was suspicious, but hunger won over gossip and he went for pancakes and left the two to their 'studies,' as claimed.

"So, what happened?" Hermione was grinning her pearly whites.

"Stop smiling like that, Granger," Harry grumbled lightly. That only made her beam worsen. "We talked."

"About . . .?"

"You."

"Me?" Hermione blinked. "Why me? What did he say? What did you say?"

"After we got into it, so to speak, he said that he agreed with his father on a few things. Like the school and . . ." He whispered, "mudbloods." Oddly enough, Hermione looked a bit relieved.

"Oh, all right," She looked at Harry looking at her. "Purebloods are sometimes like that. It's prejudice. Did he try to make you hate me?"

"No . . . He just said you aren't as magic as us."

"That's just a myth. We're every bit as equal." Hermione defended.

"I know that!"

"Okay. So what else did you guys do?"

"What do you mean, _do_?" Hermione pinked in her cheeks, biting her lip as to try not to smile. She shook her head.

"Not like that! I mean, did you talk about anything else?"

"Yeah. We talked about Quidditch for about a half hour . . ."

"Wow. For half an hour? That's really good Harry. You were nice to him, weren't you? Did he invite you back tonight? Are you going to go?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go. And stop smiling like that." And then Hermione popped a very surprising question.  
"Do you think you might ever like him?"

"WHAT?" Did people just love to ask him random questions? Was it 'Scare Harry!' week or something? Did he miss a memo? "I do _not_ like Malfoy. He's – he's . . . I don't like him. Especially not in that way. He's a guy. He-"

"Could you ever? Even as a friend?"

"I don't know. I've only really talked to him straight out once. Why are you so obsessed with this, Hermione? What's the big fixation?" She rolled her eyes and mouthed something short.

"I already told you, Harry. Do you have any idea how a true Gryffindor and Slytherin relationship would change Hogwarts?"

"We're not in a relationship!"

"At least give a chance, Harry. You never know!"

"But I'm not gay. I'm _not_."

"How do you know?"

How _do_ I know?


	10. DI luvz IK 4eva

I know I haven't updated in what feels like a year, and I'm sorry. A lot of crap has happened at home of over the course of the past few days, along with a mixture of frustration (because I hate doing large amounts of dialogue) and writer's block.

Again, this chapter has a lot of dialogue, but it was unavoidable. I feel that I need to do some sort of explanation, and this is the only way I really see fit. The conversation with Professor Sombra is a bit cheesy, but I did my best.

Now, for my dear **Caralynne**. I don't want anyone to get me wrong: I love constructive critisism. What I hate is people who are plain rude.

Here are some things I'd like to point out and suggestions on how not to critique someone.

The characters are OOC? How so? It's lovely that you think that, really it is, but on what grounds and what parts?

Perhaps I wasn't clear in my first chapter, or maybe you're just plain blind. Or both. But not once did I say anything to the extent of 'HBP suckz cuz h/d dint happin!" No. I didn't like HBP because it seemed completely out of character to the way JKR.

I do not try to be Rowling; I don't want to be. I don't quite understand this comment, really, though. If she says that I am trying to be like Rowling, isn't everyone who writes a fanfiction trying to be like her?

I love constructive critisism. But I love it when it's done with, courtesy decency and accuracy.

Read and review.

Chapter Ten – DI luvz IK 4eva

It was two days later when Harry was coming back from Care of Magical Creatures, Durmstrang style. They had gone to see kelpies. Sure, that sounds easy and everything, but they had to dock little boats and went around in caves. Honestly, Harry had gotten a little startled. Professor Birch assured them that there were no Kappas in the waters, but Harry swore he saw something blue pass beneath his boat as they went into a rather tight turning cave.

They didn't find any kelpies, although they did find large amounts of yellow seaweed. Apparently, this little lake was thriving in ankleweed algae, which was some important plant or ingredient; something like that.

Harry picked up a single strand of the algae and was surprised as to how heavy it was. It felt like leather and seemed to weigh a good pound. And then the problem came. Each Hogwarts student had been paired up with a Durmstrang student in the boats, and Harry got a surprisingly large one who didn't really talk much. They were asked to collect some of the algae, but when the other guy in his boat stood up, things got a little shaky. Harry did the wrong thing by standing up, too.

The descend into frigid waters was actually quite slow. There was a moment in time where Harry knew he was going to fall, but didn't; couldn't. There was nothing he could do as he tipped backward slowly, ever so slowly, and could see the faces of other students look horrified or laughing. And finally, there was the crash.

To say that the water was cold was an understatement. The water covered him in what felt like liquid ice, and he felt sharps going into his bones. How could anyone possibly survive something as bloody chilly as this? And to think, some people swam in this!

The lake was actually a lot deeper than he thought, flailing around; there was no place he could kick up from. Attempting to climb to the top of the lake, his robes began to pull him back. That was when he got scared. The surface still seemed out of reach, and no matter how much he tried to swim up, his uniform tugged him back with equal strength. He unclasped his cloak and let it fall, at the same time he untied his robe. He spotted a large mass across from him; the Durmstrang guy, doing the same.

Letting go of the extra clothes that weighted him down, Harry shot up to the surface, hacking out the water in his mouth. He felt several hands grab his shoulders and arms, pulling him out of the water and landed him heavily into another boat. It rocked violently and Harry almost wondered if they were going to do it all over again.

But they didn't. Professor Birch summoned a few towels and gave one to Harry, throwing another one onto another boat, where Fallo climbed into. Birch twirled his mustache with his finger.

"Well, eh. I guess that won't be happening again."

- - -

"Vhat are 'oo going to do now?" Ingo asked, walking with him on the second floor. Hermione and Ron were told to go to their next class. Hermione insisted that he get changed and warmed up; she'd let him copy her notes, but only once.

"I'm gonna head up to the showers and get cleaned up. I'm not going to go to Potions. I'm bloody sick of that man."

"Profeesor Snape? He ees OK. He ees a beet strict, but no one ees perfect, roight?"

"I don't think he understands that," Harry grumbled. "So where are you heading?"

"To Charms. My class eesant for another five minutes – Hey there," Ingo stopped, turning toward a student they were passing; Dane something. Dane had to have the strangest hair Harry ever saw; with all the colors you could think of imbedded into it. It was cropped, with brown and red, and had hints of blonde and black in it.

"Do you want to run thee hills tonawht?" Ingo asked. Harry, had no idea what that meant. He felt awkward standing there, attempting not to eavesdrop.

"Sure. Around vour? That ees your break, roight?"

"Roight. Just meet me by thee Quiddeetch pitch."

"Kay. I need to go to Arithmancy," Dane finished, and kissed Ingo good bye, waving to Harry before he left. Harry stood there for a moment as Ingo turned back to him. Ingo was gay? Was everybody in this school like that?

"What was that all about?" He asked, hoping not to sound rude.

"Oh. Dane and I often run thee hills about tree keelomeeters. Good for endurance and all, eh?" Ingo winked. At first, Harry didn't get it. And then, he blushed.

"Yeah. Well, uh. Here's the Charms room. See you later," Harry said, about to walk off.

"Oh, wait, before I forgeet. On noon, Saturday, wee are having try outs for the Quiddeetch team. Are you going to try out?"

"Uh, yeah. Noon? Okay. Well, see you." Ingo eyed him.

"Bye."

Harry turned away and let out a deep sigh. Mal-Draco was gay, Ingo was gay. If the girls here were 'butch,' did that mean there were a lot of guys 'girly' here? No one at Hogwarts was gay (other than Draco,) or were they? Just how many people got turned on when he undressed for the evening? Back at Hogwarts, many younger girls did have a thing for him; as if it were a fan club. He knew guys (like Colin and Dennis Creevey) were part of his 'fan club,' but were there guys that liked him a lot more than that? What would Malfoy say?

That humored him for a moment. He could mentally picture someone saying he was good looking, and then suddenly find themselves turned into a chicken with Draco hovering behind them. That felt nice, yet weird, that he had a sort of protection by someone who wasn't really . . . an adult or Ron or Hermione.

"Mr. Potter," Professor Sombra stood at the doorway way of her office. She flicked her wand; drying Harry up. He had a feeling she wanted to talk to him and didn't want to wait around.

"Yes? Professor Sombra?"

"Why don't you come in with me? I have a break right now, we can have some tea."

He followed her into the office and shut the door behind him, standing there awkwardly as she took the kettle off the hearth.

"One cube or two?" Harry blinked.

"What?"

"One cube of sugar or two?"  
"Oh, uh. One, thanks." He said, taking the cup. He took a small sip of it, and felt himself relax. Professor Sombra took a seat on the top of her desk (having to pile up some papers) and turned to him.

"I saw what happened back there." He didn't get what she was saying. "I saw your expression. I've seen a change in you over the course of the past several days. Do you like Ingo?"

"What! No. No, that's not it. I'm _not_ like that. I'm not," Harry stared at her. "No, Ingo likes Dane. I'm not gay. I don't have a crush on him." She smiled.

"No, that's not what I meant, Mr. Potter. What I mean is, do you like him as a friend?" He nodded. "I caught your surprise on their interaction. Mr. Kronhk very much so likes Mr. Iswel; they're very close, or so I've seen. You were surprised because he liked guys, I assume?"

"Yeah. I don't have anything against them, I don't. It's just – he didn't – they didn't – Are there-" Harry stumbled. "I didn't think they were gay. They didn't act like it."

"And what does a 'gay' person act like, Mr. Potter?"

"Well . . . They acted like . . . They acted like guys do."

"Yes, but how does a gay person act?" Harry opened his mouth, and then shut it. How _do_ they act?

"They . . . they act like girls."

"According to . . .?"

"I don't know. People said that. On the muggle news, they talk about protests and stuff. But . . . But . . ."

"All homosexual boys act like girls, just like all purebloods are rich and snobby," She nodded.

"No! Ron's not rich and snobby. Neither are the Patils. That's just-"

"Stereotypical?" Harry paused and realized what she was getting at.

"Yeah."

"Hogwarts is a wonderful school; it really is. But its students come from mainly the heart of Britain; and for the past several decades, the battle between muggles and certain controversies have been at a high. For instance, homosexuality. I find that, in comparison to other schools and age ranges, your opinions change with muggles', subconsciously or not," She licked her lips.

"I'm sorry, you got me off on another subject entirely. I'm a bit of rights activist, and the little scene and whatnot got me going. I wanted to talk to you about the Order." Harry stared.

"How do you know about-"

"I don't. At least, not really. I know that it's kind of like a club or something, a syndicate. And I know that Albus Dumbledore is in it and that you have been requested for something. Tonight, around seven, go down to Professor Snape's office."

"Why? Is something wro-"

"I don't know, Mr. Potter. I was only told this by an unsigned note this morning. Also, you need to keep this an absolute secret. Mr. Weasley and Miss. Granger cannot come."

"Why?" Harry blinked.

"I don't know," Professor Sombra said, shrugging. "The password is . . . scarhead," She smiled innocently and stood up, opening the door. "And I want you to keep up those grades, Mr. Potter."

Harry glanced around and then looked back at her. He was about to open his mouth when she winked at him and shut the door.

Well, Harry thought, here we go again.

"Harry," Hermione pressed as they met up at dinner, "Are you all right? You're awfully quiet."

"I'm fine. After dinner I have to . . . I have to go . . . to Professor Sombra's office." Harry decided. Hermione narrowed her eyebrows.

"Why? I already got you your notes. If you want, I can fill you in on our new blocking spell, the-"

"Oh, no. I need to . . . talk to her," As he said this, he saw Hermione's eyes dance over to another table, occupied by Draco Malfoy.

"Oh, I see," She smirked and looked back at Harry. He followed her gaze to where it had previously been and what he saw disturbing and pleasant at the same time.

Draco was apparently modeling a new type of robe sold only in sex shops. It was plain cotton, wool, and black, like any other common day robe a pureblood would wear. But it was uncomfortably tight in appearance, to the point where Harry saw precise curves in Draco's torso and where it stuck to his back and buttocks. The neck of the robe was also quite tight at the top, although, as the blonde moved around, Harry noticed there was a thin slit in the middle of the neck, creeping down Malfoy's chest. The only repulsive thing about it was the pig clutching his arm and glaring at the girls surrounding her.

And then he looked at Harry, and Harry knew. This wasn't to impress anyone at Durmstrang; it wasn't to prove any sort of point. It was to show himself off to Harry with a questionable expression that seemed to be "Do you like what you see?"

He felt dirty, disgusted, surprised, and happy all at the same time.

"Look at him," Ron said, bringing Harry back to reality. "It must be mating season for weasels," Suddenly he had a rather odd image of two weasels going at it. He smirked. "Is that even school regulation?"

"Classes are over right now, and it really is a robe. The professors don't seem to mind," Hermione quipped in. "I read over some of the dress code guidelines of Durmstrang. As long as you're wearing something like a robe when in public at school, it's okay. And since when did you care about the dress code?"  
"Since Malfoy decided to parade around in a leotard. He must be a bloker."

"A what?" Harry asked.

"It's some word I heard today. He probably digs the dick over the chick." Harry had to laugh; it was funny. But Hermione thought otherwise.

"Ronald! That is an absolutely disgusting thing to say! Do you have any idea how rude that sounds?"

"What? I don't want some guy checking me out in the shower."  
"They don't," Harry said flatly. "They don't."


End file.
